


Batman Arkham Knight: A Redux

by clv44



Series: The Arkham Knight: Full Game [1]
Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Batman: Arkham (Video Games) Setting, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Batfamily (DCU), Batman: Arkham Series (Video Games) Spoilers, Blood, Blood and Violence, Brutality, Canon - Video Game, Fix-It, Gen, Hallucinations, Mental Instability, Mystery, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22497259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clv44/pseuds/clv44
Summary: It's been five years since Arkham City was shut down. Hugo Strange is dead. Joker is dead. Gotham is quiet for once. It's just a matter of time before the silence is shattered.
Relationships: Arkham Knight & Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU) & Bruce Wayne, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Selina Kyle & Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Barbara Gordon & Bruce Wayne & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake/Barbara Gordon
Series: The Arkham Knight: Full Game [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647637
Comments: 34
Kudos: 20





	1. Officer Owens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyoftheSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheSea/gifts).



> To LadyoftheSea, my favorite Batfan on this whole site.

_Luke: "I'm not afraid."_

_Yoda: "You will be. You will be."_

_-Empire Strikes Back_

* * *

GCPD Officer Jacob Owens never thought he'd get used to working the night shift. How did somebody convince themselves that 2am was a decent hour to be awake? Owens quickly found out that it was pretty easy; Gotham was just as busy in the early hours of the morning as it was at high noon. Sometimes they were working late hours like himself. Sometimes they couldn't sleep and were out for a walk. Sometimes they just felt suddenly hungry and needed a bite to eat. Whatever their reasons, they flooded the sidewalks, making sure that they were at least alone or tired with other lonely tired people.

Tonight, it was raining, a steady downpour that hadn't stopped since four that afternoon. Owens hadn't stepped out of his car all night, but the rumbling emptiness in his stomach was getting difficult to ignore. He parked on the curb beside "Puali's Diner," a popular spot for almost every cop in the city. Pauli was a GCPD veteran and offered a 50% discount to any on-duty cops. The red neon light of the sign bounced of the slick asphalt as Owens pulled his jacket over his head and half-skipped, half-jogged through the rotating glass door into the warm glow of the old-style diner. The booths were covered in red leather that hadn't be replaced in thirty years. The counter was lined with shiny stools and the waitresses wore uniforms that looked straight out of "Cheers".

"What'll be your poison today, officer?" Carol, the waitress behind the counter, asked sweetly as Owens took a stool. She was young, but just the right kind of young, Owens thought. The kind of young that's matured enough to be responsible, but not enough to where the refreshing smile was wiped off her face. The image he always got from her was very "Little House on the Prairie" and it always made him happy to think of it.

"I'll have the usual, Carol," he replied, patting his pudgy belly. "I'm gettin' there. Lost three pounds."

Carol smiled. "Alright! Good for you. _Chicken salad with no dressing,_ " she wrote down.

"Wait." He caught her just as she was walking away. "Waffles," he amended quietly, almost like he'd get instantly fatter if somebody heard him. "With a side of bacon. Don't tell my wife."

Carol grinned, writing down the new order. "No problem, Officer." She winked at him before turning to yell the order into the kitchen, clipping the meal note to the old-fashioned spinner between the counter and the kitchens. Owens sighed, thinking about his meal. He hadn't had anything so unhealthy in months and it was driving him made how much he missed the taste of fried food.

"Uh, excuse me." Owens spin in his stool and found a civilian behind him.

"Sorry to interrupt your dinner Officer... Owens," he said, looking at Owens name tag. "But there's a guy smokin' over there, in the corner booth." Owens glanced over to where the man had pointed and saw a cloud of smoke drifting up from the corner-most booth, right next to the front windows. He sighed warily; he'd been a smoker himself before all public areas had been rendered non-smoking zones. He missed the days where you could enjoy a coffee and cigarette in a comfy booth, your newspaper spread out on the table while you waited for your eggs.

"Alright," he grunted, getting to his feet. The civilian thanked him and went back to his table, which wasn't anywhere near the corner booth. What a nosey asshole.

Owens dragged himself over to the corner booth. The customer had his back to him, a hood pulled over his head.

"Excuse me, sir." Owens tapped the man on the shoulder. "There's no smoking in here." Owens leaned in to see over the man's shoulder. He held a glass pipe in his hands.

"And you're definitely not supposed to be smoking _that."_ Owens grabbed the man's shoulder, reaching for his handcuffs. The man leapt at him, snarling and screaming. He swung with the pipe and Owens felt a sharp pain on his cheek as the glass broke against his skin. He felt floaty as whatever was in the pipe was sucked into his mouth and nose. It was hot and stung his throat and nostrils. He shook his head, but it did nothing to clear his vision. It was blurry and he felt his heartbeat speed up painfully. He started sweating and his breathing became shallow. What the hell was in that pipe?

He steadied himself against a table, trying desperately to get control of his breathing.

"Officer?" said a voice. "Officer, are you ok?" Owens looked up to see who'd spoken and shrieked. The diner was crawling with zombies. They had bald heads, empty sockets and gnarled, sharp teeth. He backed away, slamming against the wall as he fumbled for the pistol at his hip. The zombies were hovering around him, staring at him without eyes.

Suddenly, one of the zombies started screaming. It was a horrible sound, high and grating. It sounded like a dying cat. The zombie grabbed the one beside it, beating at its face. Owens finally loosed the pistol from its holster, holding it shakily in front of him. He was almost too afraid to fire. Soon, every zombie in the diner was attacking each other, biting, scratching and beating at one another.

 _How is this possible?_ Owens thought through the cloud of panic. _What are these things? Where did they come from?_ He had forgotten about the man he was sent to reprimand, the one he had been about to arrest. All he could focus on now were the monsters and the gun in his shaking hands.

The zombie in front of him caught sight of him, screamed, and ran towards him, arms and legs flailing. Owens finally pulled the trigger and the monster fell to the ground, a chunk of its head blown clean off. The others heard the noise and charged him. Owens pulled on the trigger and didn't let go, firing round after round into the mob of monsters running him down. One by one they fell until the gun made a sickening _click_. Owens refused to believe that he was dead and pulled the trigger again. _Click, click, click,_ said the gun.

The monsters were on him, screaming and frothing at the mouth. One knocked him to the ground and started beating him in the face. One clawed at his legs. Another kicked at his gut. He covered his face, whimpering, willing for himself to be dreaming. He'll wake up at noon, like he always does. He'll say hello to his wife and he'll wait for the kids to come back to school at four.

But he didn't wake up. Instead, the zombie pulled his arms away from his face. It scratched and punched him. It bent down to bit his nose, breaking the skin and sending blood gushing over Owens' mouth. The monster pulled back and slammed its head against Owens' skull. His world went black and he didn't wake up.

* * *

Jim Gordon was having such a normal day until he suddenly wasn't. He woke up from his nap at 6pm to go to the precinct. He kissed his wife goodbye. He listened to the news in the car on the way home. Today, Harvey Dent was being released from Arkham, apparently cured. He'd even repaired his damaged coin as a sign that he'd been reformed. Gordon wanted to believe that, but he wasn't sure. Maybe it was the years spent fighting against him as Two-Face, but Gordon just couldn't believe that somebody like Dent could be fixed. It was a depressing thought, but you needed to think suspiciously when you were a Gotham City cop.

Gordon parked in his same spot at the precinct and said hello to the same people as he walked to his office. Everything was running like clockwork, predictable and smooth. That is, until Aaron Cash came into his office holding a file.

There wasn't anything about the file that should've alarmed Gordon. It was a simple manila file folder, like the millions of others that filled every drawer in the GCPD. He couldn't have known that the contents would've made him nauseous.

"Commissioner," Cash greeted as he walked in. Gordon nodded in return, stuffing tobacco into his favorite pipe.

"We've got a weird one here," Cash continued, offering him the file. Gordon took a few seconds to puff on his pipe before he finally took it.

"It'd better be weird," he said, opening the file. "If you're bringing it straight to my office." The report seemed simple enough; a few eyebrow raises from the witness testimony, but standard case of assault. _(Good Lord, he thought. When does a case of assault become standard?)_ He stopped when he got to the part about Officer Owens. Gordon had met Owens and he couldn't imagine him whipping his gun out on a room full of civilians.

"Where's Owens?" he asked. Cash grimaced.

"Dead. You'd better take a look at the photos, sir."

Gordon flipped the pages until he got to his first photo. His pipe nearly fell out of his mouth. What he saw couldn't have been real. It was Officer Owens, but Gordon could only tell because the deceased was in an officer's uniform. The face was bashed in, bruised and bloody to the point where it wasn't even recognizable. Gordon didn't want to go to the other photos, but he made himself turn the page anyway. _Sweet God in heaven..._

The bodies had been completely dismantled; bitten, scratched, bashed. It was insanity. He hadn't seen anything like this for...

"I'll keep the file, Cash," he mumbled, transfixed by the brutality in the photographs.

"Actually, sir, I need to take that back to the boys in autopsy so they can-"

"I said I'll hold onto it, Cash," Gordon said more clearly. He looked Cash in the eye, willing for the man to remember the code they hadn't used in almost five years. Cash's eyes widened in recognition.

"Oh, right. Yessir." He left, his face filled with all of the astonishment and apprehension that Gordon felt.

Gordon took all the pictures out of the folder and spread them out on his desk. He had always done this, back in the old days, to remind him on the days he felt like giving up why he was a cop. To prevent these deaths. To lock away the crazies who had done it. Thirteen dead civilians. One dead officer.

Gordon took a long pull on his pipe and opened a cabinet that hadn't been opened in almost five years. In it was a special phone. The phone was covered in dust and some cobwebs. He took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this is the last chapter taken completely from the game. I just couldn't resist putting it in as my opener; it's too perfect.
> 
> This story was based on an old blog post I made plotting out my own version of Batman Arkham Knight, as I was dissatisfied with the game in general and the story in particular. I hope you enjoy, whoever reads this. And please don't go searching for the blog post because 1) you'll never find it and 2) you'd only spoil yourself if you did.


	2. Bread Crumbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman and Robin investigate the crime scene and follow the clues.

_"Elementary, my dear Watson."_

_-Sherlock Holmes_

* * *

**Wayne Manor**

"Might I suggest an extra helping of Bengay tonight, sir?"

Bruce shot Alfred a look in the mirror as he slipped on his white button-up. His butler was unperturbed; if he panicked every time Master Bruce threw him a dirty look he would have developed a twitch by now.

"I don't need an extra helping to attend a party, Alfred," Bruce replied, even as his elbow made a popping noise and he grimaced. If there was one definite upside to semi-retirement, thought Bruce, it was that he was no longer damaging his body every night. He still had damage to deal with, unfortunately; nearly two decades of being Batman had given him early arthritis and it was sometimes so painful he needed help to get out of bed.

"We had green boys in the army who weren't as stubborn as you, Master Bruce," Alfred remarked, helping Bruce do up his buttons and bowtie. "I would take the cane to you like we did them, beat it out of you, but you already have enough pains to deal with."

"You think you're really funny, don't you Alfred?" Bruce observed himself in the full-length mirror. He could almost make himself believe that he was ten years younger if not for the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the grey streaks at his temples.

"I like to see myself as your daily dose of reality, sir." Alfred helped Bruce slip into his sport jacket. "Somebody in this damned house has to keep everyone's head on straight."

Bruce smirked. The truth was he probably wouldn't be alive to feel these aches without Alfred. The old butler could be stubborn and snidely superior, but he had been Bruce's sole voice of reason in many of his darker moments. He was grateful for it, really.

"Thank you, Alfred," he said.

"It's no trouble, sir. It's quite literally my job."

Bruce and Alfred had a great view of the manor's main hall as they descended to join the crowd. Businessmen, tycoons and the like crowded into the small area, sending a steady hum of conversation into the rafters. Clark was the first to spot Bruce coming down the stairs. He nodded and Bruce winked.

"Bruce!" Diana met him at the bottom of the stairs, wrapping him in her strong arms. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you." He pulled back to look at her. She was just as graceful as the day he'd met her. Age, rather than slowly diminishing her looks, had given her a regal countenance that made her seem almost immortal. He pecked her on the cheek and slipped into the crowd, intent on finding Tim and Barb.

They were in the sitting room, surrounded by their friends in front of the fireplace. Connor had one arm around Megan's shoulders. Kaldur sat on a footrest, sipping a scotch. Wally and Artemis held hands between a set of chairs. Tim sat next to Barbara, clutching her hand like she might slip away. Barb couldn't stop smiling and the engagement ring on her left hand glinted in the fire light. Tim caught sight of Bruce first and got up.

"Congratulations," Bruce said, clasping Tim's hand and shoulder. He wanted to say more, but he wasn't sure what. He had never been great in situations like this, but there was more to his tied tongue than that. This was Robin, the boy and later man he had worked with for almost a decade. What else did you say to someone who knows you like that?

"Thanks, Bruce." Tim smiled and Bruce liked to think that he understood what Bruce couldn't put into words. Barb wheeled over and Bruce bent down to wrap her in a hug. His feelings for them both had changed at some point, turning from protégés to something like family. It unnerved him a bit that he didn't know _when_ that happened, but he allowed himself to feel happy as he held Barb in his arms.

"Thanks for hosting this, Bruce," she said as she pulled away. She couldn't stop smiling and Bruce found it contagious.

"Of course," he replied. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Master Bruce?" Bruce turned to find Alfred standing at the door. He was putting on his usual air of aloofness, but Bruce could tell he was more tense than usual. "Telephone for you, sir."

"Who's it from?" he asked.

"Commissioner Gordon, sir. He says he has an item he needs you to retrieve from police evidence."

Bruce's eyes went wide. That was the code that Gordon had used when he had a case for Batman. He hadn't heard those words in almost five years. He immediately felt old instincts kick back in like a switch had flipped inside him. But then he thought about where he was, what this party was for, and he turned to look guiltily at Barb and Tim. To his surprise, and, he admitted, delight, they seemed just as gripped as he was. Their muscles were tense and he could tell they were as ready as he was to book it to the Batcave. He felt something like pride swirling in his chest.

"Clark," he whispered towards the main hall. He saw the back of a head of black hair perk up above the rest of the crowd. "Make our excuses, will you? We need to change into some different suits."

* * *

Slipping the cowl on his head had been like putting on a set of old pajamas. Behind his armor plating, his cape blowing in the wind as he stood on the evening rooftops of Gotham, the aches didn't seem to hurt as much.

Gordon met them at the old Bat signal. It stirred something in Bruce to see that old insignia illuminate the Gotham skies again. Gordon handed him a simple file folder.

"We know who it was," Gordon said. "It was Lonnie Machin. Went under the alias Anarky back when, but he dropped off the grid years ago. He's the one who attacked Owens and, as far as we can tell, started the whole thing off. What we don't know is _how_ he did it. The witness reports share a correlation with the effects of Crane's toxin, but Crane has been docile for at least two years and we can't find where he might've funneled the stuff into the diner. No contaminants in the vents, nobody with anything in their pockets that might've released it. We have no idea where the stuff came from and we can't even get a sample of it. That's where we need you two."

Batman nodded, scanning over the report. His brain soaked up every word like a sponge and while he read slower than he might've ten years ago, he still finished by the time Gordon was done talking. "We'll send anything we find back to you," he said, his voice automatically pitching into a lower register. "That should give your investigators enough to get a new lead."

"Don't count yourself out of this one so soon, Batman. This could be bigger than we think; could be one of our old friends come out of retirement to play."

"We'll make sure to keep an eye out," Robin cut in. "If it turns out to be one of the big ones, we'll let you know."

"That's all I ask, kid," Gordon replied, turning back to Batman. Only, he wasn't there. Gordon couldn't help but smile.

"How does he always do-" he asked Robin, but the kid was gone, too. Gordon sighed; he wondered if he would ever get used to that.

Across the street and hidden in the shadows, Batman watched Gordon turn off the Bat signal and leave, never once glancing in his direction.

Bruce smiled. Still got it.

* * *

"I gotta say, it's good to be back in the old tights," Robin remarked as they entered the diner. The police had backed off at Gordon's request and they had ten minutes to establish a crime scene and find what evidence they could. Deep down, Batman was doubtful they'd find anything. The police had already contaminated the area and had already gone through the scene with cameras and plastic bags, picking the site as clean as they could. Who knew if there was anything else left to find? But above that cynicism, Bruce felt his heart drumming with anticipation. He was back in his element, putting his brain to good use, using nothing but his sharp eyes and a few gadgets to look for clues. He couldn't help but grin.

"Take left," he ordered. "I'll take right." He pressed a button on the side of his cowl and the world was immediately drowned through a filter of blue. He calibrated his Detective Vision to search for traces of Scarecrow's fear toxin and began sweeping the room. Robin began to do the same, walking along the row of booths that lined the front window.

Batman swept his gaze across the counters, the stools, and the floors. Gordon was right; there were traces of fear toxin, but they were miniscule. And there was nothing Batman could see that told him a point of origin for the specs he found. Where the hell had this stuff come from?

"Woah!" Robin exclaimed. Batman turned around to see him standing by the corner most booth. He moved to join him as quickly as his aching knees would carry him.

"What'd you find?" he asked.

"The source, I think." Robin was staring at the floor, the eyes of his mask covered with electronic lenses. Batman looked to where he was staring and saw a large, airborne sample of dormant fear toxin floating in the air. Batman dragged a hose from his utility belt and held it up to the particles. He pressed a button and a sharp _hiss_ filled the air as the tube sucked in the toxin.

"Oracle, analyze this sample. Find anything in it that might lead us to Crane's location."

"Already on it, boss," Barbara's voice crackled in his ear. Bruce couldn't help but take a moment to enjoy the nostalgia. Then he caught sight of something on the ground: a faint liquid trail lighting up as fear toxin. It lead under one of the booth seats.

"Robin, check to see what's under that seat." Bruce really didn't feel like straining his joints at the moment. Robin bent down and came back up with what looked like a broken meth pipe, only the thing was covered in fear toxin.

"Is he selling it as a drug?" Robin mused. "Who would buy something that scares the shit out of you?"

"Why do people watch horror movies?" Batman countered. Robin shrugged, beaten.

"Batman, Robin." Oracle's voice crackled in their ears. "I've got something on the sample you sent me."

"Let's hear it." Batman gestured for Robin to follow him and together they exited the diner and fired their grappling hooks into the sky.

"There _are_ traces of Scarecrow's fear toxin in the sample," Oracle explained as the Dynamic Duo leapt and glided across the rooftops. "However, there're bigger traces of a different chemical makeup."

"He's mixing his drugs together?" Batman guessed.

"More like he's created a completely new drug by altering his fear gas to become addictive. I found records of this drug being found by the GCPD, mostly on undercover assignments. Dealers have been distributing this shit for months now, but the chemical makeup is so different that it couldn't be identified as fear toxin."

"Wait, you're saying that this stuff has been on the streets for weeks and there have been no cases of mass panic until _now?"_ Robin asked. "We've seen what this crap can do; how does nobody immediately start screaming once they take a whiff of this?"

Batman didn't speak; he was thinking the same thing. How did Scarecrow manage to pull this off? How did he make it so that his toxin wouldn't take effect on the users? And how the hell had Batman not noticed this if it's been on the streets for months?

 _Because_ you _haven't been out on the streets in years,_ he thought. He grit his teeth.

"That's not all that's weird," Oracle chimed in. "According to this scan, it shouldn't be possible for this drug to exist. The chemical makeup between the fear toxin and the addictive element is incompatible; they should be rejecting each other at a fundamental level. Somehow, Crane has found a way to fuse the two together without the whole thing falling apart."

"We need to find Crane and his supply," Batman said finally. "Oracle, give us his last known location."

"Actually," Oracle stopped him and Batman could hear her tapping at her computer keys furiously. "It doesn't look like Crane is the supplier. Looking at the locations where they found this stuff and at the dealers who were selling it, it looks like this stuff has been going out through Cobblepot."

Batman raised an eyebrow. Now that was interesting.

"Bad guys can work together, too?" Robin asked in fake shock. "Huh. I guess twenty years can change just about anybody."

* * *

Oracle's findings took them to a warehouse on the Gotham docks. The Dynamic Duo looked down through a rooftop window, unsurprised to find Oswald Cobblepot, as fat and loud as they remembered, overseeing what looked like hundreds of crates of drugs. The entire building lit up with the stuff through Detective Vision and the two of them had immediately donned gas masks when they were in position at the window.

"What would bring Cobblepot out of comfy retirement?" Robin wondered. "He got time off for good behavior _and_ he had enough money to sit on for the rest of his life. What would drag him back into the life?"

"What dragged _us_ back?" Batman asked wryly. Robin smiled.

"Well, how about we drag him back out while we wait for Gordon to get here?" Robin cracked his knuckles and his leather gloves creaked. He took the bō-staff from under his cape and extended it to its full five feet.

"Ready, old man?" he asked. "Think you can keep up now that you've actually been prescribed Bengay?"

At first Batman didn't answer, seriously wondering if he should be jumping through windows with his condition. But then he thought of the look on Cobblepot's face when they would come crashing in like something out of hell and he smiled.

"Do me a favor," said Robin as both of them readied to jump. "Don't smile when you have the mask on. It's creepy."

The look on Cobblepot's face was as good as Bruce thought it would be. The sound of crashing glass spooked everyone in the building, causing some to drop their crates. Cobblepot looked up and his mouth fell open.

"It can't be!" he nearly shrieked. "NO! This can't be happening! You're retired."

Batman landed back-to-back with Robin and they immediately assumed battle stances.

"Not quite," he said and lunged, immediately pinning Cobblepot to the ground. The building erupted in gunfire and Batman was forced to hide behind cover. He flipped on his Detective Vision and saw four armed thugs on the upper balconies. They were all focused on Robin, who was flipping and jumping around dramatically. It was an old distraction technique they had used on several occasions. Robin would cause a scene and Batman would take care of the gunmen. He considered doing it quickly, knocking them all out with a Batarang or freezing them all with an ice grenade. But Batman felt like being a little impractical; the adrenaline was pumping through his veins now and he wanted more of it. He took the first two down silently, one after the other on the catwalk. He then took out his line launcher and aimed directly at the man across from him. The thug only had time to make a terrified face before Batman kicked him off the walkway. The other man fired at him blindly, machine gun fire ripping through the air around him. Batman flipped, spun and jumped to avoid the fire, each movement bringing him a little closer to the gunman. Finally, with one last flip, he brought his boot down hard on the man's skull and he lay face-down on the floor.

"You could've been a little more expedient," called Robin from below. He had Cobblepot on his knees, hands tied behind his back.

Batman glided down, landing softly in front of their prisoner. "You had it covered," he said. A quick scan of his Detective Vision told him that all the other thugs had run away. He was slightly relieved at that; his muscles were already starting to ache.

Batman turned to look at Cobblepot. He felt a petty sort of satisfaction to see that the years had done nothing to benefit the man who called himself The Penguin. He had a long, wobbling length of turkey neck, his pointed nose had been broken at an ugly angle and his hair had completely fallen out.

"Been awhile, Bats," he said, trying to sound brave, though Batman could hear the tremble in his voice.

"I know you've been shipping drugs for Scarecrow." He pitched his voice down just a little lower than its usual baritone. "You're going to tell us where he is before the GCPD get here and we'll leave you with fewer broken bones than we otherwise would have."

The Penguin laughed, the stench of cigar smoke and liquor coming off his breath. "Well, too bad, Bats, 'cause until you told me, I had no fuckin' idea these drugs were comin' from the good doctor."

Batman took a set of brass knuckles and whacked Penguin across the face. A black tooth flew from his mouth.

"No, really, I mean it!" Cobblepot sounded more desperate now. Perhaps he had only just remembered every bone in his body Batman had ever broken. "I just get a fat quid in my account every month. Then, I get a drop point and go pick up this shit. It's a different one every time and nobody's ever there. Just a big ol' crate and a couple million in me pockets."

Batman looked at Cobblepot through his Detective Vision. His heart rate was accelerated, but that was due to fear rather than falsehood. He was telling the truth. That wasn't good; if Penguin didn't even know that Scarecrow was making the drugs, but somebody got them to him anyway, then this must be way bigger than anticipated.

"Robin," he barked. "Go outside and see if you can find any tire tracks. Follow them and see where they lead."

"Got it." With a pop of his grappler Robin was soon through the rooftop window. Batman turned his attention back to Cobblepot.

"Why risk this, Cobblepot?" he asked as the Penguin wriggled in his bonds. "You were accepting money from an unknown party in exchange for distributing an unknown drug. Why sign up for something so hazardous?"

Penguin looked up at him with hatred in his good eye. "If you'd have seen how long the line of zeroes on the check was, I doubt you would've been asking too many questions either."

Batman just shook his head.

_BAM!_

Batman reeled back from sucker punch as his ears rang. He shook his head, looking for who had hit him. It wasn't Cobblepot; he was too slow and he was still tied up.

_WHACK!_

Another strike caught him on the cheek, but this time Batman managed to grab at the wrist as it withdrew. He saw a face covered by a red and white mask under a red hood. He saw a chest covered in a bright red cross on a cloth of white.

"What the fuck took you so long?" Cobblepot yelled, still struggling against his bonds.

"Since when did you sign up with Penguin, Azrael?" Batman asked, blocking a new set of jabs from his assailant. Azrael said nothing, his eyes filled with intensity and focus. Batman blocked each of his incoming attacks, old combat instincts taking over. He let himself be taken along with the flow of battle, blocking and dodging, jabbing and kicking in a dance to which he knew every step. His body, however, wasn't as tuned as his mind. After a while, it felt as though there was a lag between his brain and his limbs. He could see the punches Azrael would throw, but he couldn't get his arm up in time to block them. He could see the weak points in his armor that would make good strikes, but by the time he had thrown his punch, Azrael was there to block it. Bruce's joints were screaming now; he needed to end this soon.

He ducked a swipe from Azrael that clipped one of the ears on his cowl and whipped the remote electrical charge from his utility belt. One quick blast sent 30 volts of electricity straight through Azrael's system, sending him flying back unconscious. He'd been walking with a twitchy leg for a few days.

"Get up!" Cobblepot barked. Batman turned to see that he was face down on the ground, now, his rotund form making it difficult for him to get up. "Get up, you fucking idiot! You're fucking useless, you dozy cunt!"

Batman kicked him in the face, knocking him out. There wasn't anything more they could get out of him, he was sure.

There was a groan behind him and Batman whirled around. Azrael was on his knees, fighting against the electric spasms to get to his feet. Batman pulled a Batarang from his belt and primed it.

"Wait, Batman," Azrael groaned, holding out his hand for mercy. "I can explain everything. Please, just give me a chance to speak."

"You attacked me," Batman countered as the sound of police sirens blared in the distance outside. "Why should I trust you at all?"

Azrael reached behind his mask and drew out a simple playing card, illustrated with the queen of hearts. The card sparked hissed, smoke rising from the edges.

"Jervis Tetch," Batman snarled, slipping the Batarang back into his belt.

"He has had me under his hypnosis for the last two months," Azrael explained, letting the card fall to the floor. "That electric blast shorted out the technology he uses to assist his hypnotic suggestions."

The sounds of sirens were just outside the building. Through his Detective Vision, Batman could see armed officers gathering by the door. He stomped over to Azrael, throwing his arm over his shoulders and whipping out his grapple. A few seconds later they were both sanding on the roof, Azrael still catching his breath and Bruce trying to pretend like he didn't need a nap.

"The night approaches, I think," Azrael declared. "The night I told you about in Arkham City, the day that Gotham would burn and you along with it. I think it's on its way."

"I don't much care for prophecies," Batman grumbled, watching as the officers stormed the building, taking an unconscious Penguin into custody.

"Just because you do not care for them," Azrael said, "doesn't mean that they aren't real. Or that this one won't come true." Batman turned to face him, but he had gone. Vanished.

Bruce rubbed his eyes. This was going to be a much longer night than he had thought. Perhaps he should've taken that extra dab of Bengay after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, the point of this chapter is that Batman be old as fuck.
> 
> This is the first fight scene I've ever written, so critique on that is definitely appreciated.


	3. Black Ivy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman and Robin visit Chinatown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't come at the same speed as the first two, but it's a little longer than the last two so maybe that makes up for it(?)

_"The enemy of my enemy is my friend."_

_-Sanskrit proverb_

* * *

Batman watched the blue and red lights of the cop cars fade into the distance from the rooftops. Had he not been in so much pain, he would've followed them all the way back to the precinct, making sure that Penguin didn't attempt escape. He told himself they were probably fine, that the GCPD were more than capable of handling Cobblepot. He took off his cowl and let the night air cool his face, sitting on the edge of the building and watching the headlights fill the streets, like a river of light. He wondered what those people were up to. Where were they going? Where were they coming from? Did they know what he was doing? Did they care? Sometimes, Bruce had envied their lives free of his guilt and responsibilities. Sometimes, he felt superior, because his suffering had made him stronger than them. Other times, he didn't know _what_ he should feel.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Bruce turned to see the speaker and smiled. Selina smiled back, shifting her goggles to her forehead. Her bright green eyes glittered in the lights from below. She sat down next to him, watching the cars go by.

"Heard you retired," she said.

"Heard you had, too," he countered.

"I like to put the old suit back on every once and awhile. Keeps me feeling young, gets the blood pumping."

Bruce nodded. "How'd you find me?"

"I still tune into the police scanner." She tapped at a piece wrapped around her left ear. "Said that Cobblepot was back in business. Then they said they'd found him already tied up. Who the hell else could it have been?"

Bruce smiled, sneaking a look at her face. Like Diana, she had aged well, though in a different way. Whereas Diana had taken her wrinkles and greying hair and turned it into something elegant, Selina still retained much of her youth. Her eyes glittered mischievously, her hair was still cropped in a pixie cut and the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth seemed smaller, less deeply etched. She caught him staring at her and she grinned.

"You look good," she commented, gently touching his greying temples. "Seriously, age suits you."

"You've held up nicely." Bruce thumbed her freckles with a gloved hand, making her blush.

"Twenty years and we're still playing the same game," she said wistfully.

"Maybe at some point the game will end." Bruce cupped her cheek. "One way or another." Selina didn't say anything to that, though her eyes fell, not meeting his. Bruce felt a little worm of guilt in his stomach; they'd discussed "ending" the game before. By making the game last the rest of their lives. In fact, that was what they'd talked about the last time they'd spoken. It hadn't ended well.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying to get Selina to meet his gaze again. "Maybe after tonight, after the case I'm on is finished..."

"You've come out of retirement once, Bruce." Selina pulled away, getting up and slipping her goggles back on, covering her eyes. "Who's to say you wouldn't do it again? Then where would we be?"

"Together, at least," he replied. They just looked at each other for a long time, waiting for somebody else to take the next step. Finally, Selina spoke.

"Your cowl is ringing. Tell Barb I said congrats for me. And Tim, too." She ran off, taking out her whip and snapping it with a flick of her wrist, taking her to a different part of the city. Away from him.

Bruce took the cowl, which was flashing a blue light on the side, and put it back on his head.

"Ready for some bad news?" Oracle asked immediately.

"Not really, but go on."

"I looked up that account that Penguin has been getting his money from and it looks like somebody deleted it. Recently. Like ten minutes ago recently."

Batman took a deep breath. So, they were being watched. Or at least Penguin was being watched and _they're_ certainly being watched now. He put on his Detective Vision and did a quick sweep of the area. He saw hundreds of people in the buildings, in their cars, on the streets, but nobody that looked suspicious.

"Keep a close eye on our communications," he ordered. "We can't take the risk we're being tracked."

"Got it!"

"Selina says congratulations, by the way." Barbara paused.

"You talked with her?"

"Yeah."

"How'd _that_ go?"

"She didn't scratch me, so that's a plus." For a while he only heard Barb tapping the keyboard.

"You'll find a way to get through to her, Bruce," she said at last. "She likes you too much to stay mad at you forever."

 _I hope you're right,_ Bruce thought. He thought about how ridiculous this must seem: getting romantic advice from somebody two decades younger than he was. Then again, she was the one engaged and not him, so what did he know?

A beeping noise came through his earpiece. He brought whoever it was into the call with him and Barb.

"Batman." It was Robin. "I've traced a set of tracks from one of Penguin's trucks. It leads to a penthouse in Chinatown. And we've got Black Mask goons outside."

"Why would Penguin's thugs be going to Black Mask?" Barbara mused as Batman took out his grappler, making his way towards Chinatown.

"They were probably uncover agents keeping an eye on Penguin," he deduced. "Perhaps Sionis noticed Penguin's recent activity and wanted to know how profitable it could be if he joined in. Or took over."

"So, do we check it out?" Robin asked. "Or do we leave him be?"

"If Sionis has been investigating Penguin's operations, he might know something even Cobblepot didn't. Cobblepot didn't care where his money was coming from. I'll bet Black Mask wasn't as apathetic."

"Alright, boss. I'll send you the coordinates." Tiny circles of glass fell over the cowl's eye holes and Batman saw a marker pulsing at some point in the city. He took off after it, trying not to think about Selina's fingers running through his hair.

* * *

Batman and Robin scoped out the mansion from across the street. It was more of a tower in shape, emulating the look of feudal Chinese architecture. They could see two guards at the main entrance, both armed and both wearing replicas of the eponymous, skull-like mask of Roman Sionis. Through Detective Vision they could see more guards patrolling the halls and stairs all the way up the tower. However, not nearly as many as would befit a powerful crime lord. So, either Black Mask wasn't here or...

"Oracle, get me the full schematics of this building. And try to find who sold it to Sionis." He heard the rapid tapping of keys before Barbara spoke.

"Surprise, surprise, there are no full schematics available. Who sold this to him, on the other hand... yup, looks like he got it off the Broker, so it's probably got a hidden basement or something. That's probably where Black Mask has information on Penguin, if he has any at all."

Batman gestured to Robin and the two of them split off. Batman took the front, easily gliding down next to the two guards and taking them out one after the other. The ground floor wasn't going to be a problem either; he could see five thugs, all armed, and Robin was making his way through the air vents, getting into the perfect position for a swift attack.

"Don't make your move until I do," Batman grumbled into the comlink. Through his Detective Vision, he eyed one of the guards slowly making their way towards the door. It would be the perfect way to make an entrance. Just a few more steps...

* * *

Charlie was super sweaty behind the plastic black mask, but he couldn't take it off. Boss' orders for some ungodly reason. Sure, the boss was in the underground lab, but Charlie always got the impression that Sionis was watching all of them. Just yesterday, he'd called out Donnie for stealing some of the supply and slammed his head against a wall until all the skin had been scraped off his face. Whether Donnie did steal some of it or the boss was just fucking paranoid he never found out, but Charlie decided to just not take any chances.

He shifted restlessly, fingering the trigger on his gun. He was stationed on the ground floor tonight, along with four other low-tier goons in plastic masks. He was partnered with Garth, the only guy here whose name he actually knew, and they were each standing on either side of the fake wall that hid the entrance to the underground lab below the building. They were getting paid extra for holding this position, which he guessed was nice. Though he'd much rather be back home; he'd been on duty for a full twelve hours now.

Garth passed him a cigarette. "I heard Penguin got busted," he said.

Charlie lifted his mask and took a drag. "When did that happen?"

"About an hour ago. Phil came in pissing his pants and went down to the boss." He jerked his thumb behind them at the plain-looking false wall. "If he were smart, he wouldn't have gone down there. Penguin getting caught ain't gonna make Sionis happy."

"When is he _ever_ happy?"

Garth shrugged.

"How'd they find Penguin?"

Garth took back the cigarette and took a long drag. "Phil was saying something about Batman."

Charlie's eyebrows shot up. "Batman? No shit? I thought he was retired for like the last four years." He desperately hoped that his voice wasn't trembling. He hadn't been under Black Mask during the Batman's prime and had never personally seen him in action. He had only heard horror stories from Sionis' other men or from his cellmates in Black Gate.

"Yeah, something like that. He stopped making as many appearances after Joker died."

"You think it was really him?"

Garth shook his head. "Nah. He's got no reason to come out of retirement now. I mean, why _now_ instead of a few months ago when this shit started?"

"Well, then, what do _you_ think happened?" he asked, stepping back to allow a fellow guard to pass by.

"Maybe he forgot to wear a gas mask? Or maybe he wore one but there was a crack in it? You know what that shit can do to people without prep."

"Maybe," Charlie sighed, letting himself relax. What Garth said made sense and besides, he'd been in this life longer than Charlie had. He was just being the newbie overreacting.

That's when the door _fucking exploded._

The guard who had passed them was down first, thrown forward by the impact of whatever had blown apart the door. Dust kicked up, landing in Charlie's eyes and going up his nose. He coughed, his eyes stinging as he raised his gun.

He heard a smacking noise followed by grunts of pain.

Somewhere, the grinding and clanging of metal.

Several shots went off and he ducked instinctively.

He turned to look for Garth, but he wasn't there. Charlie's heart was pumping in his ears. His hands were trembling and he couldn't get them to stop. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to piss his pants and run away. But his legs wouldn't move.

A tall silhouette emerged for a second in the flying dust. Charlie fired blindly, spraying an arc of bullets out into the cloud of sawdust. He fired until the gun clicked, empty.

He waited, listening and trying to keep his legs from falling out under him. He didn't hear anything.

Then the dust settled and he saw two figures standing amid the broken bodies of his crew members. He couldn't tell if they were dead or unconscious, but their arms and legs were bent at angles that made him want to retch.

The two figures moved slowly towards him. He dropped his gun and put his shaky hands above his head. The taller man grabbed him by the collar and pinned him up against the wall. He wore a mask with a permanently furrowed brow and two long ears.

"Where is the door to the basement?" His voice was practically a threat in itself, deep and unwavering. It was a voice that said, "I will break every bone in your body if you don't give me what I want."

"It's right behind me!" Charlie squeaked, patting at the wall. "You just need the keys off me and Garth. Secret pads on either side."

He winced, expecting the Batman to punch him in the face. Instead, the grip on his collar relaxed and Charlie slid to the floor, shaking.

That's when the rest of Black Mask's men came running down the stairs. The ones in front stopped short at the sight of them.

They looked at the Batman. They looked at the other man behind him.

The Batman looked down at Charlie. He picked up Charlie. He threw Charlie at the crowd on the stairs. Charlie didn't remember much of anything after that.

* * *

"So, we ended up having to take out the whole building." Robin was unconcerned as they rode the elevator down to the basement. "So what?"

"That was fifteen minutes Black Mask has been given to escape," Bruce pointed out as the elevator came to a stop. The doors opened on to a narrow hallway, strangely unguarded. "He could already be gone by now." _And besides,_ he thought, feeling his muscles ache, _that was energy I could've saved for this._

"With a big operation like his, I doubt it," Robin replied.

The two of them then made their way down the hall in silence, each creeping along opposite walls. They tried several of the doors only to find the rooms empty except for a few tables. The rooms smelled of acids smelled like a chemist lab and the tables were covered in dirty beakers and abandoned Bunsen burners.

Finally, they reached the door at the end of the hall. Silently, they swung it open to find an observation room. There was only one man at the window and Robin easily dispatched him with a swift blow with his staff. The two of them looked out over a confusing scene. The room below them looked like a ramshackle laboratory. Long lines of assembly tables lay in parallel rows. They were quickly being cleared of several pieces of expensive-looking lab equipment, which were then unceremoniously dropped into boxes and thrown into the back of a mover truck. The truck was parked just inside a garage door, which opened out to the back of the building.

In the middle of it all, dragging a terrified-looking man by the ear, was Black Mask. Behind him, however, trapped in a tall glass box, was the chlorophyll-green figure of Poison Ivy. She was unconscious, shackled to the base of the box by her wrists and ankles.

"So, wait." Robin rubbed his temples. "Is Sionis, like, making a competing drug? Or is he...?"

"I think he's the supplier," Batman finished, looking at a clipboard on the control panel. There was a list of dates and locations like "250/52nd Street" and "Avenue Ax and Cicero". Street corners. Street corners for a drop off, where Penguin would arrive to pick it up.

"Holy shit..." Batman turned around; Robin was staring out the window, his eye lenses blue with Detective Vision. "This place is fucking _covered_ in fear toxin. All of it's liquid, but I'm still surprised they haven't all gone insane from being _around_ this much."

"Crane must be giving them the toxin to mix in with the addictive element." Batman moved beside Robin. "It makes sense; at this point, only Sionis Industries has the kind of money and manpower to run an operation like this. Black Mask managed to keep the company afloat even after his stint in Arkham City."

Robin whistled. "So, to recap: we have Scarecrow, Black Mask (who has Poison Ivy held prisoner), the Penguin _and_ the Mad Hatter working together to... what? Sell drugs? Drugs that don't even have the intended effect of Scarecrow's toxin? That seems like a lot of steps we're talking about. And besides, where does Tetch come into this? What do they need Poison Ivy for? And why was one of Black Mask's guys undercover with Penguin if they're working together?"

"Why don't you ask the boss yourself?" The duo whipped around to see an enormous man glaring down at them. Two very painful punches later, Batman and Robin found themselves crashing through the observation window and landing painfully onto the ground floor.

All activity around them stopped and the room went dead quiet. Black Mask was the first to break the silence.

"Well, looks like you weren't bullshitting me after all, Phil!" He let go of the man who he'd been dragging and rubbed his ear. "Somebody get this boy an extra grand. To make up for the ear." Black Mask sauntered over to the duo, lazily slipping a pistol out of his side holster.

"I'm surprised your codpiece doesn't burst with the massive balls you've got to come here." He cocked the pistol and, as if in response, a dozen other guns clicked in a chorus of impending pain. "Almost four years you disappear and _now_ you show up? Is it your _job_ to just screw up everything you can?"

"Are you gonna keep talking, Sionis?" Robin spun his bō-staff. "Or are you gonna fight?"

"Fine." Sionis aimed his pistol right between Robin's eyes. "Your funeral."

The room erupted in two thick clouds of grey smoke. Batman and Robin made their way through the coughing men, knocking them out one-by-one. Their Detective Vision gave them an advantage that these petty thugs could never hope to have. Through the filter of blue, Batman saw Sionis booking it through the smoke. He gave chase, easily catching up despite the aching that was starting in his knees.

"No seeing the boss without an appointment!" cried a booming voice and Batman just barely slid under an enormous fist flying at his face.

He whipped around and saw the huge man who had thrown him and Robin out the window. Great.

"Need some help?" Robin leapt at the large man, cracking him over the head with his staff. The big man winced and whipped around to throw a punch at Robin. He dodged and the man's punch left a crack in the floor.

Batman whacked at the man's abdomen, but the man's muscles were tough. He might as well have been punching a tire for all the impact it made.

He backed up and grabbed the electric charge gun. It worked with Azrael, why wouldn't it work here?

The ball of energy struck the man in his chest, making him lurch. His bulging muscles twitched violently, but the man remained standing. And very conscious.

"Good try, little man!" The big man steadied himself. "But you'll have to do better than that."

That's when Robin placed three snap flairs on the back of his head.

_POP! POP! POP!_

The big man staggered again, forward this time. Batman took out the brass knuckles and whacked the man's chin with an uppercut.

He staggered back.

Robin whacked him with his staff.

He staggered forward.

Robin hit him in the back of the knees, forcing him to kneel, dazed.

Batman jumped up and punched down on his face.

The man fell to the floor and didn't get back up.

"Do you have any idea how much it cost for him to be shipped here?"

The duo whipped around and found Black Mask standing next to Poison Ivy's cage. He was holding a remote, his thumb poised over a big red button.

"Well, let me tell you, he was expensive. But, to be completely honest, I was hoping you'd get past him. Otherwise, I'd have no reason to try this."

He slammed down on the button and the entire cage hummed with electricity. Ivy screamed back into consciousness, sparks flying off her chains.

"Ivy, sweetheart, we have a few unwanted guests. Please show them the door." He gave another shock and Ivy's eyes fluttered open wearily.

She spotted the duo and her gaze seemed almost apologetic.

Then, the earth began to shake. The concrete split open. Six huge green tentacles erupted from fissures in the ground, covered in thorns. There was another shock from Sionis. Another scream from Ivy. The plants struck.

Batman flipped just as the plants smashed down on where he'd been just moments ago. Robin had leapt in the opposite direction. Three of the plants turned towards him. The other three poised to strike at Batman, like a group of snakes surrounding a mouse.

Batman risked a glance at Ivy's cage. Sionis hadn't tried to run; he still held the remote, giving Ivy a short jolt every now and then.

The middle plant leapt at him and Batman swiftly grappled himself into the rafters. He could feel the thorns just barely nip his boot.

The plants followed him, rising higher until they were once more level with him. Batman hooked his grapple onto the rafters, waiting.

The left one struck and Batman let gravity take him. The grapple line caught him and he swung straight at Black Mask, whose eyes went wide behind the obsidian wood.

Batman slammed into Sionis and the two men went tumbling, knocking over Ivy's cage with a loud _CRASH!_

They struggled, Batman grabbing for the remote still clutched in Sionis' hand.

Sionis backhanded, catching Batman in the face. He was forced onto his back. Sionis swiftly planted himself on his chest, wailing on him with his fists. Bruce could feel bruises forming, blood vessels breaking, bones cracking. He tried to catch the fists flying at him, but he was getting dizzy and could barely see them coming.

"You know, if I knew you were gonna be this easy to take down, I wouldn't have teamed up with the rest of these idiots." Black Mask slid out his other pistol and pressed the muzzle to Bruce's head. "The whole point was to finally get rid of you, but honestly we needn't have bothered with all this trouble. You've grown weak, Batman. Where we've only grown stronger."

Sionis pulled back the hammer. Bruce closed his eyes, his arms too weak to even put up a fight.

Sionis gasped, loudly and painfully. Bruce opened his eyes to find a thorny plant protruding from his chest.

Sionis was lifted off the ground, struggling and grasping at the plant. Bruce looked around; Poison Ivy was out of her cage, her bonds broken. She was staring up at Black Mask with absolute contempt.

"I would thank you for your hospitality, Roman," she said, bringing the struggling crime lord close to her face. "But... y'know."

Roman Sionis was thrown across the room. He slammed against the wall with a crunch and fell to the floor. His mask shattered off his face, leaving only exposed muscle and teeth and bone.

Batman felt a vine wrapping around his waist. It lifted him to his feet and Robin rushed over to his side, lifting him under the arms.

"Sorry about Roman," Ivy drolled, sauntering away with a swing of her hips. "He can be a little cranky."

"Why was he holding you prisoner?" Bruce asked. It hurt for him to speak.

"He wanted me to make him his drug," she explained, wiping a finger through the spilt chemicals on the assembly table. "The chemicals in Scarecrow's toxin can't be fused with the ones he makes naturally. So, they got me to force the two to play nice. I can force the chemical makeup to cooperate and suddenly, poof, you've got a new compound. An extremely unstable one, but one that doesn't instantly fall apart."

"What about Mad Hatter?" Bruce was thankful Robin had spoken for him. "What does _he_ have to do with this?"

"No idea." Ivy shrugged. "I didn't even know he _was_ involved. You don't get to hear much inside a glass case, being shocked into submission for four months."

"What'll you do now?"

Ivy looked at them, studying them. "Well, I think I'll just go back to my flower shop, if it's all the same to you. I'm gonna try to stay the hell out of whatever's going on here. You, bird boy, should probably get him," she pointed at Bruce, "to a hospital. He looks like hell."

The ground trembled again and a vine from the ground wrapped around Ivy's body. It pulled her back into the earth and she was gone.

"Barb," Robin spoke into their comms. Bruce found that his knees were shaking and he was putting a lot of weight on Robin's shoulders. "Tell your dad he'll find Black Mask and his lab in Chinatown. Also tell him that he's dead. Yeah, Ivy killed him. Yes, Poison Ivy. I'll explain everything when we get back. Bruce is beat to hell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Critique on dialogue is begged for and appreciated. I know it's my weakest element.
> 
> Also, yeah, I know that the quality and tone of this story is pretty inconsistent chapter-to-chapter. I don't know why either.


	4. Forked Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Batfam search for new clues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @Llewtwo for being the Beta on this one.

_"In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again."_

_-Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_

* * *

**Batcave, Wayne Manor**

"Never say I don't do anything nice for you, Master Bruce." Alfred screwed the cap back on the jar of ointment. With the amount of bruises covering Bruce's body, it had taken almost the whole supply. His entire upper body glistened under the exam light. His face was the worst; Black Mask's beating had left it puffy and with several red blood vessels showing through the skin.

"Never will, Alfred." His entire face hurt when he spoke. It hurt to wince at the pain. It hurt to do anything.

"Just nice to be appreciated, sir." Alfred packed the jar into his medical bag and threw away his disposal latex gloves. "I assume that you're going to want to get back to business, regardless of your current pain."

Bruce shook his head. "The others will do fine without me for a while," he said through gritted teeth, trying to minimize his facial movement. "There's work I can do from here."

Alfred's eyebrow made the subtlest of quirks, which for the deadpan butler was a sign of extreme astonishment. "I do believe that's the first sensible thing you've said in the last twenty years. I'm impressed, sir."

Bruce rolled his eyes and moved over to the Bat-computer, throwing on a flannel robe. Barb was furiously tapping at the keys, scanning the hundreds of lines of code per second flying across the screen. She didn't look away as he approached.

"How're you holding up, boss?" she asked.

"Fine." He resisted the urge to grunt in pain. "What leads are you following?"

"Tim's trying to find Tetch, but we're starting from a cold trail on that one. Actually, there's no trail at all. It's been three years since anybody saw him."

 _Or reported seeing him,_ thought Bruce.

"He's contacting the old underworld connections, but we've got nothing so far. We told Dick about the situation; he's looking around Blüdhaven."

Bruce nodded. "What about the drugs?"

"GCPD confiscated pretty much everything from Black Mask's lab. So they're not making any more. The problem is that we don't know how much they were able to make _before_ that. Sure, we got rid of Penguin, but the drugs are still out there, and somebody else could get their hands on them. It's... kind of a mess."

"It can't be easy hiding crates of drugs. Not in Gotham. We'll find them soon. And if we don't, if they get out on the street again, we'll have a new path to the supplier."

Oracle nodded, finally looking up from her screen. She flinched and hissed when she saw him.

"Jesus, Bruce! You look like you've been pulped!"

"Thanks, Barb." He tried grinning, but it sent a new wave of pain through his face, so he gave up on it.

"Master Bruce will be fine, Miss Gordon." Alfred came up behind him, holding a glass of water in one hand and two pills in the other. "He's assured me that he'll be working from home for the foreseeable future. I honestly couldn't believe my ears."

Barb looked uncomfortable. "Wouldn't it be better for you to, y'know, take it easy?"

"Relaxation is not a word Master Bruce is familiar with, Ms. Gordon. Even if he were down with Spanish flu you would find him doing the daily crossword in the name of stimulation."

Bruce took the pills, chasing them down with the cold water. "I can't stay idle, Barb," he admitted. "And there are still things I can do while out of action. Old contacts I can ring up, evidence that I can look over."

Barb examined him, turning back to her computer after a moment. "If you've got things you can do, Bruce. I won't stop you. I wouldn't be able to, anyway."

Bruce smiled. "Keep me posted."

Barb nodded, not taking her eyes off the screen.

"What do you plan on doing, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, following him out into the sitting room, swinging shut the grandfather clock that hid the Batcave entrance.

"Do you remember when I first came back, Alfred?" Bruce scanned the massive bookshelf next to the fireplace. "How I prepared myself before becoming Batman?"

"You put on a ski mask and beat on pickpockets. I also recall that you crashed your motorcycle on the third night."

"I also made several underground connections. And I still _have_ those connections." Bruce picked a book from the row, blowing on the cover. A thin layer of dust flew into the air. "Technology wasn't up to the task yet, so I had to keep everything on paper. Every name in this book owes me a favor and it's about time I called them in."

"Why?"

Bruce looked up at the question. "They might have information that our more recent contacts don't."

"I didn't mean why you should contact them, Master Bruce." Alfred's gaze narrowed. "I meant why _you_ specifically? Why not give the names to Ms. Gordon and she can relay them to Masters Dick and Tim. It would certainly be helpful with their investigation."

Bruce frowned. "Why _not_ me?" he practically growled.

"Save that tone for the criminals, Bruce." Alfred's voice was hard and old memories bubbled up inside Bruce. Him and Alfred arguing over his choice to be Batman. The night the assassins came, when Alfred tried to persuade him against fighting them. The night of Protocol 10, when Alfred reminded him to save Gotham instead of Talia.

"You can't do anything about those names at the moment," the butler continued. "You can call them, of course, but you lose a significant amount of leverage over a telephone. These people know you as the dark, winged creature of their nightmares. That fear is what makes them tell the truths that they might otherwise be too scared to spill. A gravelly voice on the other end of a telephone is hardly a proper substitute."

Bruce felt his anger flair. His jaw was clenched. His palms were sweating. He felt the same way he did the first time he faced down Killer Croc; like he wanted to bolt.

"And they're going to be more scared by two kids in bright colors?" he retorted, getting in Alfred's face. "My voice is what haunts their nightmares. It will make them beg for mercy just to hear me say 'Hello'. I know them, Alfred. The other's don't. It's _my_ responsibility."

Bruce was panting heavily. His knuckles were white where he held the book. His face ached at his grimace.

Alfred never flinched.

"Very well, Master Bruce." The butler turned on his heel. "Let me know if you need anything."

With Alfred gone, Bruce suddenly felt tired. He relaxed his hunched shoulders and looked at the book. The leather was peeling off, pages in danger of falling out. He sighed, slumped down in his fireplace armchair, and started dialing the numbers on the first page.

* * *

Two hours later, Bruce angrily slammed the book shut. He had never considered that his old contacts would no longer be available. Some had retired from the life. Others were dead. Others had been usurped in their positions by other people, rendering them useless.

Bruce shook his head, wincing. His face was starting to hurt again and he felt discouraged. His body and mind were crying out for something to do, but he was already out of options.

 _DING DONG_. The sound of the front doorbell filled the manor. Bruce heard Alfred rush to get it and the sound of footsteps as he led whoever it was to the sitting room.

"Miss Kyle is here to see you, sir," he said. Selina looked over the butler's shoulder and Bruce was suddenly self-conscious. He felt envious of J'onn's shapeshifting powers; he never had to worry about ugly injuries.

"Thanks, Alfred." Bruce sat up straighter, determined to look Alfred in the eye. The memory of how he'd yelled at him was swimming through his head, but he was determined to not let it show.

Selina crouched down beside Bruce as soon as Alfred left. She gingerly took his face in her hands.

"I heard Black Mask was out of the game," she said. "I just came over to see what the damage was."

"Awful presumptuous of you, isn't it? To assume that I got hurt taking him on." Bruce tried to insert some levity into the remark, but he still spoke from an injured ego. Selina smirked.

"Seems I was right," she said. "Are you gonna be alright?"

Bruce nodded. "Nothing broken. Just hurts like hell."

The door swung open and Alfred walked in carrying another serving of pills. Bruce took them quietly, not sure what to say. Selina took a seat across the hearth once they were alone again. She eyed Bruce critically.

"Whatever it is," she said, "you should just apologize."

Bruce frowned. "What makes you-"

"I can tell you had a fight," she said plainly. "If it had been Alfred that was wrong, he would've apologized by now and you'd both be fine. But there's a tension with you two, which means you were wrong in whatever it was. And you haven't apologized yet, so Alfred is waiting for you to say sorry while you sulk, feeling guilty, but too proud to admit you screwed up."

Bruce shuffled uncomfortably. "We're looking for new leads to the drugs Black Mask was making for Penguin. Alfred thought I should give my book of contacts to the others. I argued that since they were _my_ contacts, they were _my_ responsibility."

Selina narrowed her eyes. "There's gotta be more to it than that."

Bruce looked away. He felt like her eyes were staring right through him. He wondered if that was how he made other people feel sometimes.

Selina sighed and shook her head. "Bruce, it would really suck if you drove Alfred away because of something petty. You wouldn't last two days without him. Besides, life is easier with friends."

Bruce looked back at her. She gave him a small smile.

"I feel like I can't do anything, Selina." Bruce didn't open up to people easily. It had taken a whole year of Selina living in the Manor to finally tell her about his parents. Every word coming out of his mouth felt like pulling teeth, but Selina had a way of bringing the truth out of him.

"I can't put the suit back on until my face has healed," he continued. "Barb can do everything on the computer. I can't do... much of anything."

Bruce didn't know what he wanted from her. He felt like pity would be too indulgent. He could do with a slap in the face and told to toughen up, like he was used to, but not from Selina. He was surprised to see her give him an empathetic pout.

"We all run out of steam at some point, Bruce," she said, not unkindly, like she knew exactly what he was going through. "The years catch up to us. I can only afford to put on the suit once every few months. I've gotten slower. I've taken more hits than I used to. And, frankly, there's not much that the police can't handle these days. No more need for Catwoman. No more need for Batman."

The fire in the hearth crackled between them. Bruce's contact book lay abandoned on the coffee table. Selina got up and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I may have something, actually," she said. "Last night I came across a corner dealer. On Dockside and Forest Avenue. He was hypnotizing the customer. Maybe Tetch has his hands on the drugs now."

Bruce nodded, looking up at her. She was still so beautiful. Her eyes reflected the crackling flames. Her freckles were a million beautiful stars peppered across her cheeks. He couldn't imagine she was looking at him in the same way, with his face covered in lumps and ugly, popping veins. Selina laid a kiss on his forehead, light as a spring breeze.

"I just came by to make sure you were okay," she said, backing away towards the door. "Make things right with Alfred. And... don't hurt yourself even more."

She left and Bruce felt as though a little warmth had left the room, like she'd reached into the fire and taken a coal with her. He heard her voice mixing with Alfred's as they talked at the door. Then the door shut and she was gone. Bruce wondered sadly if he'd see her again soon. Before last night, they hadn't seen each other in months. Now, he'd seen her twice in 24 hours. He felt spoiled and yet he wanted more than he would probably ever get again.

Alfred reentered the room, still looking professionally stiff. "Will you be needing anything else, sir?"

Bruce canopied his fingers, sinking into his thoughts. He now had a location and he knew Tetch's part in this. He's providing the dealers and teaching them how to hypnotize people. For what reason? And what did he do with this now? Selina's words rang in his ears: " _We all run out of steam at some point, Bruce._ "

He clenched his fists and rose from his chair, ignoring the popping in his knees from rising too quickly.

"Alfred, where are we on that prototype suit? The one with[ the helmet](https://arkhamcity.fandom.com/wiki/Alternate_Skins_List?file=Batman_Arkham_Knight%2C_Batman_Beyond_2039_style_skin_showcase_56.jpg#Batman_3)?"

* * *

**The Corner of Dockside and Forest Avenue, 10pm**

"Just for the record, you look ridiculous," said Robin. The two of them were perched on top of a water tower, watching the corner intently for the dealer. The sidewalks were empty except for a few homeless people, taking shelter under cardboard boxes and tarps repurposed as blankets. Bruce made a mental note to add this section of the city to the weekly stop list on the Wayne poverty food truck.

"There's just way too much going on," Robin continued. "Too many bells and whistles, y'know? You gotta make it more simple. Why not just the red bat and the belt? It'd be simpler, easier to make intimidating. You just look like a tacky soldier with all that armor plating on. And where's the cape? A couple of wimpy gliders under the arm is hardly a good substitute. You need that intimidation factor."

Bruce's sigh was made tinny by the speaker in the helmet. "Do you know a better way of not hurting my face?"

"Don't go out at all?" Robin frowned. "I'm still not okay with you being in the field right now, Bruce. None of us are."

Bruce didn't answer. He kept his eyes trained on the sidewalk corner.

"Fine, whatever," Robin said. "Just don't come crying when you pop and elbow out of joint."

They sat there for another hour, ingrained training keeping them still. Finally, they spotted a dirty-looking man in a hooded sweatshirt. The duo leapt off the water tower and leaned over the edge of the building. Through Detective Vision, Batman's hearing was amplified so he could hear what was being said.

A nervous man in an expensive-looking suit shuffled over to the dealer.

"I was told you could...." the man swallowed. "Provide me with something for my back pain."

The dealer pulled out a plastic bag which Detective Vision quickly identified as the special drug.

"There's a bit more to this than just paying for it, though," said the dealer, keeping it out of reach of his eager customer. "I'm gonna need something more from you."

"What?" The man was hesitant.

"Just take a look at this for a good few seconds. That's all." The dealer pulled out a playing card. Batman could see the intricate wiring within, orange against the blue filter. A slowly growing whine rose in his earpiece. The auditory indicators told him that it was coming from the card. The customer's heartbeat went from nervous to calm over the course of ten seconds. The dealer put away the card.

"When you take this stuff," he said, "you'll feel really, really good. Your back pain's gonna be all gone. You won't share this with anybody. You won't smoke this around anybody else. Ever. You can tell all your friends about it, that's fine. Tell them to try it out, that it's done wonders for you. But don't ever smoke it around anybody else. Also, you're not gonna feel afraid when you take this. Not even after you've taken it. You're gonna be light as a feather _until_ I say so. When I say the word 'nightfall,' you're gonna feel _all_ that fear you've built up just come crashing down. Nod twice if you understand."

The man nodded twice.

The dealer snapped his fingers and his customer shook his head. He gave him the money and walked away with his bag.

"Now we know why nobody's been freaking out," Robin hissed. "They're just waiting for a moment to trigger the entire city. Or at least, everybody who bought this drug." Robin stood back up and offered Bruce a hand. "Shall we?"

Bruce took the hand, knowing his knees would pop again if he tried it on his own. He still hated himself for it, though.

The Dynamic Duo leapt from the roof and landed lightly in front of the dealer, who immediately shrieked and tried to run. Batman threw a Batarang and the dealer went down, hitting his face on the concrete. Batman walked up, grabbed him by the scruff of his sweatshirt and slammed him against the wall of the nearest building.

"Where is Tetch?" his voice sounded warped through the speaker.

Before the man could speak, his own hands were suddenly at his throat, choking him. Batman and Robin tried to pry off his hands, but it was no use. His fingers were clamped down tight. The dealer's eyes bulged out of their sockets, the veins in his forehead popped and his cheeks turned from blue to purple. He slumped against the wall and slowly slid to the ground, feet twitching.

The duo didn't know what to do or say. They had seen worse, far worse, but it had been so long since then. Batman kneeled down and closed the dealer's eyes.

"Oracle," Robin said. "Tell your father that there's a dead body on the corner of Dockside and Forest."

A crackle filled Batman's earpiece. When it subsided, it wasn't Barbara on the other end.

"Hello, Batman." The squeaky voice of Jervis Tetch peaked through the comlink. "I see you've found one of my little rabbits! It's too bad you had to ask him about me. He needn't have died, otherwise. Oh well. As long as the two of you are here, I'd like to play a little game. Just the three of us. You may not have been able to save the life of my poor little rabbit, but you _can_ save the lives of four little hostages just waiting in the old Falcone warehouse by the Gotham docks. Unfortunately, they have a very limited time left on this earth and if you can't get to them in five minutes, they will go the same way as my rabbit. Though, it's unfortunate that they're in the opposite direction of where _I_ am, hiding in my little home away from home below the old amusement park. They used to have such good cotton candy here. If you come and get me I won't run away. I _want_ you to find me. But you can only have one or the other. I won't wait around for your little bird. And the hostages won't listen to him if he tells them to stop. Tick-tock, Batman. Don't want to be late, late, late!"

Batman immediately grappled the nearest building. "Go after Tetch," he ordered as he was carried upward. Robin didn't question him and zipped away. Tetch might not wait around for him, but that didn't mean his partner couldn't catch up to him.

The run across the rooftops was taxing and by the time Batman reached the Falcone warehouse, dilapidated and abandoned, he was panting heavily.

Dropping in silently through the skylight, Batman flipped on his Detective Vision. He was immediately bombarded with static and his view was fuzzy. Somebody was jamming his scanners. Fine, he could do this the hard way.

Batman landed on the floor of the warehouse. He closed his eyes, pulled back the shield around his mouth to let fresh air into his helmet, and slipped away.

Every sound was amplified. Rats scampered above him in the rafters. Wind blew through the open skylight. The waves outside crashed against the docks. And he heard footsteps.

Without opening his eyes, Batman threw a Batarang in the direction of the sound. There was a yelp and his eyes snapped open. He darted into the shadows and pinned down the man who he'd hit.

"Where are the hostages?" Batman growled, the visor back on over his mouth.

"I dunno!" the man cried, raising his hands in defense. "I dunno what hostages you're talking about, man! I'm just trying to find a place to sleep, okay?"

Batman took another look at the man. He was wearing a raggedy coat, a faded beanie and a pair of gloves with several holes in them. He didn't have any shoes on and his socks were almost down to tatters.

Bruce took his foot off the man's chest and helped him up. "Have you seen anyone come in here? With a group of people."

The man shook his head. "Hasn't been anybody since I got here, Batman. Just you."

"When did you get here?"

The man shrugged. "About two hours ago, maybe?"

Batman turned from the raggedy man and spoke into his comlink. "Robin, the hostages aren't here. Tetch lied to us. Try looking for them in your area. Robin, do you copy?"

The only reply was a chorus of static.

There was a tap on his shoulder. Bruce turned around.

_CRACK!_

The homeless man swung down with a hammer on Batman's helmet. Batman reeled, checking his mouth cover. There was a huge hole broken into it.

He whipped around to see the man raise the hammer again, but when he brought it down, it was on his own head with a sickening _THUNK!_

"I apologize for that, Batman," Tetch's voice cracked through his earpiece. "But it just wasn't fair, you showing up with protection like that. So I had to send out another one of my rabbits to make sure this all worked according to plan."

A sharp _hiss_ filled the room. A great cloud of yellow smoke began to pool into the room. Bruce held his breath, reaching for his grappler.

"Oh, no no no. You can't leave yet! The party's only just begun!"

The voice was in the room now. Batman whipped around, searching for Tetch, but the toxin was now so thick that he couldn't see anything beyond the sickly yellow fog.

"You can't hold your breath forever, Batman." Bruce whipped around and threw a Batarang at the voice. He only heard the _clank_ of metal on metal.

"You need air. You know it's going to happen eventually. And you can't escape. You can't remember where the skylight is and you can't possibly see it through all this." The voice had become silky smooth. Bruce found himself agreeing with it, even though he knew it was dangerous. It was like watching a film where he could only yell at the characters to not do something that he knew they were going to do anyway.

"Take a big, deep breath, Batman. You have conquered Scarecrow's toxin before. He told me all about it. What harm could it possibly do you now."

Bruce's lungs were burning, desperate for air. He tentatively inhaled through his nose and was overwhelmed by the sweet, sterile smell of the toxin. His heart rate picked up. He started to sweat. He was overwhelmed with memories; when Barb was shot, when Jason was kidnapped, when Talia was held by Joker. He tried pushing them away, but they pushed back harder.

"That's a good Batman... Just take nice, deep breaths. Give yourself over to me; you're tired, in body and mind. I can give you the rest you need."

Bruce gritted his teeth. He grabbed his head. He tried pushing the memories away.

"You are mine, now, Batman. You will do whatever I say."

He was lightheaded. He was panting, bringing even more of the toxin into his lungs. The memories became more intense. He saw Jason's bloody body right in front of him. He heard the gunshot that crippled Barbara. He felt Talia fall into his arms as she died.

 _Stop!_ he shouted at his thoughts. He fell to his knees. _Stop! Stop! Stop! Go away!!_

"Come to me, Batman. I can make the fear go away. You never have to see them again."

The voice sounded so sweet. Bruce started crawling towards it. The closer he got, the more the memories faded. Jason disappeared. Barb was walking. Talia was alive and with him. Tears spilled down his cheeks.

The hissing stopped. The gas began to settle. The sweet voice no longer called to him.

Bruce breathed deeply, trying to calm his heart rate. It was alright. It was over. The memories were gone now. The gas would be leaving his system. He'd shrugged off higher doses than that. He would be fine.

He heard the click of a gun and looked up. A Glock 26 was pointed right in his face. Bruce looked behind it, to the person holding it, and his heart stopped.

A shock of green hair.

A face painted blank white.

A crooked smile stained with red.

"Miss me?" asked the Joker.

Then he pulled the trigger.


	5. We're All Mad Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman fights for his mind.

_"Keep walking. If I look back I am lost."_

_-A Dance With Dragons_

* * *

_"Miss me?" asked the Joker._

_Then he pulled the trigger._

* * *

Bruce cowered into a corner, holding his son closely to his chest. The giant bat stalked closer, its claws dragging along the stone. Its maw was caked with Selina's blood.

"Get away!" Bruce shrieked. He kicked out at the monster weakly. It flinched, but kept inching closer. Its eyes glowed red and it smiled at him, showing a pair of fangs, thin and sharp as needles.

Jason shook in Bruce's arms. "Don't be afraid," he soothed, patting at the boy's hair. Black locks came off in his hand. Bruce looked and screamed. In his arms was a small skeleton in a Robin costume. The exposed teeth were painted with a red smile.

Bruce dropped the bones and they fell to the floor. The clattering was a high-pitched cackle.

The bat still crawled toward Bruce. It picked itself up on its thin arms. Its legs grew longer, muscular. Its wings became a cape. Its head became a cowl.

Batman towered over Bruce. He picked up one of Jason's bones. He raised it above his head. Bruce covered his face to block the blow.

Seconds passed. The blow never came.

Bruce pulled back his hands just as a Blackgate guard rushed past his cell door. He stepped out and ran down the hallway after the guard. An alarm was blaring. All the cells along the walls were open. Footsteps echoed all around him. He remembered this; this was two years after Joker had arrived in Gotham. He'd tried to stage a mass breakout of Blackgate. And he recognized this guard: Officer Owens.

"Lieutenant!" the guard cried. Gordon turned his attention from Batman to his officer. "Prisoners..." the guard panted. "Medical wing..."

"Spit it out, son!" Gordon pressed.

"The medical wing is in a riot, sir," Owens panted. "Joker gas in the oxygen tanks. Life support plugs cut in half. And one of the prisoners is giving birth!"

With a sweep of his cape, Batman stomped toward the medical wing. The wails of a baby filled the hallway.

* * *

He threw open the doors and stepped into the courtroom. He adjusted his tie nervously.

The judge called the session to order. Each strike of her mallet made a squeaky noise.

"Your honor," Bruce began, taking his seat, "what you're proposing is unfair. Why should a child be held accountable for the crimes of the parent?"

"The child's mother still had a sentence of twenty years to serve, Mr. Wayne. Somebody has to serve them."

"The mother is dead, your honor. Surely that's justice enough. How is letting her daughter waste the first twenty years of her life-"

"The child will be given sufficient education throughout her sentence and will be eligible for parole once she reaches adulthood. Her life won't be wasted, Mr. Wayne. Just put on hold."

"Do you want to create another Bane?" he asked. The judge raised an eyebrow. "The super-criminal known as Bane was forced to carry out his dead father's sentence in a manner similar to this one. There, in that hellish prison, he was taught only selfishness and blood lust. When he finally escaped, he was one of the most powerful and dangerous men Gotham had ever seen. This child could turn out the very same."

"Mr. Wayne, this super-criminal was one of a thousand children serving similar sentences. One fluke doesn't mean there's a guarantee."

"Your honor-"

"The child will remain in Blackgate Prison." The judge raised her mallet. "Case closed."

* * *

_WHACK!_

Bruce turned from the window to see Talia at the hotel door, looking embarrassed at the noise when it'd slammed shut. She was dressed in a long rain coat that reached down past her knees. As far as he could tell, she wasn't wearing anything else.

Bruce smiled and turned back to look across the Metropolis skyline. It was different, somehow, to Gotham's nighttime rooftops. Less threatening. More alive. Hopeful. The globe of the Daily Planet shone brightly above it all.

"What troubles you, Beloved?" Talia came up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He stroked her hand gently with his thumb.

"So much going on," he sighed. "Jason is becoming unruly. The League is having trouble staying off each other's throats. And I still can't get the courts to release that poor girl from Blackgate. There's so much that I can't seem to fix."

"You will find a way, Beloved." Talia ran her long, slim fingers through his hair. "You are the Batman. You are the mortal among gods. And you are there because you can do the impossible. Never forget that."

Bruce turned to face her. Her eyes shone with unwavering confidence. And he felt that confidence fill his own heart. He nodded and kissed her.

"Now," Talia whispered in his ear. "Are you going to take this coat off me? Or will I have to do it myself?"

Bruce smiled and unzipped the coat. There was nothing but black lingerie underneath. That was soon gone as well.

* * *

Bruce woke up in his own bed. He felt someone shifting on the other side. He turned to find Diana, curled up underneath the blankets, wearing only a thin, soft-pink chemise.

Bruce's face burned with anger and embarrassment. He hopped out of the bed and into the shower. When he came out in a towel, Diana was awake and changing into her slim black dress.

"Are you rested?" she asked. She seemed unembarrassed. Bruce envied that; his face was hot and red as a sunburn. He didn't answer, but moved to his wardrobe to take out his pitch black suit and tie set. He dropped his towel and Diana looked away.

"Clark has been working on a sculpture for him," she said. "In the Hall of the Fallen. He'll be next to[ Ace](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YOooJW5SSDA). He thought you'd appreciate that."

"I do," he assured her. His top button snapped off when he tried to force it through the hole. He bent to pick it up, but Diana was there first. She'd taken a safety pin from the bedside desk and put it through the collar.

"It'll be covered up by your tie," she said. She didn't pull away, resting her hand on his chest. Bruce wanted it to stay there forever. He wanted to smack it away. He wanted to kiss Diana. He wanted to shout at her. He wanted to say thank you for the comfort she gave him last night. He wanted to push her away so she'd never see him that broken again.

He squeezed her hand more tightly than he ever could've done with someone else. She was an Amazon; she could take it.

"I'll sit next to you, Bruce," she offered quietly, squeezing back. Her grip was less desperate. More gentle. Bruce nodded stiffly.

The two of them drove to the cemetery in silence. The Gotham traffic was as bad as ever at eight in the morning. Bruce was fine with that; if he had his way he'd never step out of the car. But, eventually, they arrived. Finding a parking spot near the grave sight was easy; most of the attendees had flown in.

Diana took Bruce's arm as they walked up to the casket. Every seat facing the pulpit was filled. The crowd watched Bruce with pity and apprehension. He was both a victim of tragedy and a time bomb of anger.

Diana walked him to the front, where Dick, Barbara and Alfred had already taken their seats.

Bruce didn't listen as the priest took the pulpit, delivering a eulogy about a boy who he didn't know, but had heard wonderful things about from his friends and family. He didn't hear Arthur, Jon and Dinah's beautiful rendition of "The Parting Glass." He only heard the smacking of the crowbar and the Joker's high-pitched cackle. He saw the bloody body of the boy he had raised as a son among the flaming wreckage of the destroyed barn. He saw the closed casket and the gravestone beside it.

_Jason Todd Wayne_

_Beloved Son_

It should say so much more than that, he thought. It should say everything about Jason: that he was passionate and loyal. It should say that he became so much more than a kid like him ever should've been. It should say that he was a hero.

Bruce tried to leave right away when the service was over, but Alfred held him back.

"We have the wake at the manor, Bruce. These people are here to comfort us. You can't abandon them."

Bruce gritted his teeth; he hated it when Alfred was right.

The wake wasn't as intrusive as he thought it would've been. His teammates knew him well enough to give him space, to not try to console him too much. They mostly took turns sitting with him by the fire, drinking and eating in silence.

Eventually, it was Clark's turn to take the seat across the fireplace. He looked like he wanted to say something. Bruce waited.

"I wish I could make you feel better, Bruce," he said. "I wish I could reach inside and take all your pain away. I wish I could say something that'd make you feel better."

Bruce said nothing to that. He had no idea what to say in any of this.

"I _could_ do it, y'know." Bruce looked up. Clark looked at him intently. It was almost scary, with the fire reflecting off his glasses. "I can do something about the pain."

Bruce eyed him. In any other situation, he would've expected a sick joke. But this was _Clark_ , the closest thing he had to a friend. Not an adopted family. Not a frenemy. Not a lover. A friend.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"My powers are limitless, Batman," he said. "I only use a small amount of them. If you want, I can take all this pain away."

Bruce squinted. Something shifted in the air around him. Something wasn't right. But to be able to feel happy again...

"Can you bring back Jason?" he asked. "I don't want the pain gone. I want him back."

"Of course I can. Just relax. I can handle it." His voice was squeaking. He coughed. Bruce's stomach dipped and the room lurched.

"Clark, what's happening?"

"Just relax, Batman." Clark took off his glasses, which cracked in his hand. His voice raised even higher in pitch. "You just need to calm down."

Bruce bolted up from his chair. Everybody at the wake was looking at them. The room was filled with yellow fumes.

"Calm down, Batman." Clark got up from his chair. He was smaller, only reaching Bruce's shoulder. "You're under a lot of stress. You need only lie down and relax."

Bruce threw his glass at Clark, but he dodged it. The glass shattered against the wall, but instead of shards of broken glass, droplets of water flew through the air.

"No, no, no!" Clark exclaimed, horrified. Bruce looked down at his friend, now only reaching his knees. He was staring at a large pocket watch."This can't be right! How are you doing this?"

Bruce reeled back to strike him, but his hand was caught. Instinctively, he flipped over whoever had grabbed him, poised to knock them out. He froze, his fist pulled back; it was Diana, her face covered in a white rabbit mask. She flipped, kicking him in the jaw while landing on her feet. She joined the rest of the guests, who had also been adorned with rabbit masks of various colors.

"Go back to sleep!" Clark shrieked. He grabbed at the edges of his large-brimmed hat. "Listen to me and go back to sleep!"

Barry zipped past Bruce, knocking him back and vanishing before he could react.

J'onn charged to meet him next. Bruce grabbed the poker from the fire and flung a shower of coals at him. The Martian reeled back, screaming, as he burst into flames.

Barbara leapt at Bruce, aiming a kick at his abdomen. Bruce caught her ankle and pushed her back. She stumbled and tripped, knocking over Dick and Oliver behind her.

"Why aren't you working!?" The screaming of the small Clark carried over the fighting. He was still hitting the pocket watch.

Suddenly, Bruce found himself caught in Diana's lasso. He struggled, trying to slide out of it, but the grip on his body was absolute. The League stalked closer to him. The eyes in their masks were pure solid black, like a million little wormholes that would consume him. Dick punched him first. Then Oliver. Then Shayera. Soon, he was being showered in fists. His insides turned to jelly. Bones in his face cracked and bruises formed instantly on his ribs.

Over the din of violence and Clark's desperate shrieking, another sound grew louder. At first, Bruce could barely hear it. Then, it became bigger, all-encompassing: a high-pitched, gleeful cackle. It grew in volume and intensity, climaxing into a hearty, sadistic laugh that he knew from years of memories.

Then, it stopped.

So did the pain.

So did Clark's screaming.

Bruce opened his eyes. There was nobody there but him and a little man in a top hat, standing on a flat grey plain.

Bruce got up. The little man didn't notice; he was shaking and hitting desperately at an enormous pocket watch too big for his hands. He was muttering angrily to himself.

"Tetch?"

The little man started at his name and looked around at the never-ending grey.

"Where are my rabbits?" he asked pitifully.

Bruce drop kicked him into the air.

* * *

Tetch went flying across the room. He hit the wall, his head breaking through the plaster. Bruce shook his head; images of his friends in rabbit masks still danced before his eyes.

He grabbed Tetch and pulled him out of the wall. "Where's Scarecrow?!"

Tetch started giggling quietly. "Dr. Scarecrow isn't here right now. Would you like to leave a message?"

"Tell me where he is now!"

Tetch chortled and mumbled, "Twinkle, twinkle, little bat, how I wonder what you're at, up above the world so high-"

Batman whacked him between the eyes. He went slack.

The air was finally clear of Scarecrow's toxin, but Bruce still felt displaced. He took several deep, slow breaths, trying to stop the shaking in his arms and legs. He knelt on the floor, grounding himself to something in reality. He focussed on the carpet beneath his legs, the clicking and whirring of his suit when he moved, the ache in his muscles and joints.

He opened his eyes. No giant bats. No rabbit masks. No Joker. Just another one of Tetch's tricks. Just an unkempt apartment with a messy table piled high with tea sets.

He turned to the window and froze. The Joker was waiting for him, leaning against the frame.

"You're welcome, Brucie," he said. "If Tetch hadn't woken me up, you'd still be drooling on the floor. Fat lot of good _you_ did back there, wrapping yourself in memories and crying. I hope I'm not gonna have to do _everything_ in this body."

Bruce stared at him, frozen.

"No, I'm not actually here, obviously." Joker rolled his eyes. "Old Hatter just did a number on you when he hypnotized you under the toxin. It would've worked on literally anybody else. Luckily, you had _me_ kicking around in the back of your mind."

Bruce shook his head and turned away. He looked back and Joker was gone. He sighed in relief.

"Anybody there?" he spoke into his comlink.

Barbara responded immediately. "Oh, Bruce, thank God! You've been out of touch for two hours. Robin couldn't find you at the warehouse or... _anywhere_! What happened?"

"Tetch got to me. He used Scarecrow's toxin to weaken my mind for his hypnosis. He's lying unconscious in his old apartment near the courthouse."

"Robin told me about Tetch's dealers. Jeez, you think this can't go any deeper-"

Batman suddenly remembered. "Did Robin find the hostages?"

"There weren't any. It was just a trick to get you to Tetch. Did he tell you where Scarecrow was?"

"No. He was too scrambled to tell me anything."

"Well, at least now we've got Tetch out of the way. My dad'll have CSI look through his apartment. Maybe they'll find something like a ledger or a list of dealer names. Tetch had to have a way to keep track of them somehow."

"I'm already here," Bruce said. "I'll handle it."

"You sure? You were just under hypnosis and fear gas for two hours. Shouldn't you-?"

"I'm _fine_ , Barbara," he insisted harshly. "I just need a minute for my head to clear and I'll be fine."

"Okay, okay. Just tell us what you find then, I guess. I'll send Robin your way when you've got something to go on."

Bruce hung up without signing off. He turned back to the table. The Joker was sitting in the center, sipping daintily from a flowery teacup.

"Oh, Brucie," he cooed, smiling. "You're going to need more than a minute to clear your head of me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments over kudos every time. Knowing people read my work and like it is what keeps me going. And you don't really get that sense from just a new view or a kudos left on the project. So please dedicate time to writing a comment telling me what you think.


	6. Hello, Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman meets the Arkham Knight.

_ "Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger..." _

_ -Ephesians 4:26 _

* * *

Bruce was still scanning the room when Robin slipped through the window.

“Barb wasn’t supposed to send you yet,” he remarked.

“She figured it was safe to ignore that order.” Robin looked at him quizzically. “Are you... okay after that?”

“Yes, Batsy.” The Joker put an arm around Robin’s shoulders. “Is the big bad Batman okay? Does he need a bird’s wing to cry on?”

“I’m fine,” he growled. Robin cocked an eyebrow. Joker copied him.

“Just help me find some evidence.” He turned away and kept scanning. Robin followed his lead, sweeping the other half of the cramped apartment. The floor was covered in books, loose paper, tea sets, rabbit masks and stuffed animals.

“I never understood where this obsession came from,” Joker said. He picked up a stuffed rabbit. “I mean, if you’re gonna go crazy over something, why a book that was written to woo underage girls?”

Batman ignored him. His joints ached. He was light-headed.

“You’ve really let yourself go since I’ve been gone,” Joker remarked, circling and studying Bruce head to foot. “Your knees are ready to snap backward. You’ve torn up every muscle. And, worst of all, you’ve let your good looks fall to the dogs! How are we supposed to get laid? Certainly not with  _ your _ winning personality. Maybe next time Selina comes over, you can let me drive. I’m quite the charmer y’know.”

“Bruce?” Robin grabbed his shoulder. “Bruce? Are you okay?”

Bruce shook his head. The Joker was gone, but he could still...  _ feel _ him there.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just still shaking off the toxin.”

“Do you need to sit down?”

“No.  _ I’m fine _ ,” he repeated, shrugging off Robin’s hand. “Did you find anything?”

“No,” Robin admitted. “No paper trail, no computers, no equipment, no nothing.”

Batman stroked his chin, thinking. Tetch could’ve been where the trail ended. He could’ve been the mastermind, the one who gathered all his enemies together for this elaborate plan. That seemed unlikely, though; he was too unstable. He didn’t have what it took to get all of these supervillains to cooperate and not kill each other. He must’ve been getting orders, but how?

Joker leaned against the wall.

“Well, isn’t this a prickly pickle? How did old Jervis get his orders? It couldn’t have been the warehouse: the airwaves were jammed up. Don’t see any high tech communications around here. So how? Pen pal letters? Smoke signals? Tin can and a string?”

Bruce’s temper was stretched to its limit. He whirled around, thinking maybe he could kick Joker out of his head, when he noticed what the clown was leaning on. There was a payphone built into the wall.

“Robin.” He led his partner over to the wall. The two grabbed one side of the phone box and pulled. The phone broke out of the plaster and fell with a clatter onto the floor. The innards of crisscrossed wiring and circuitry were now completely exposed.

“A payphone?” Robin mused. “ _ This  _ is how he was getting his orders?”

“It’s wired right to the city,” Bruce explained. “Less chance of the call being intercepted. However...”

He bent down and rooted through the inner phone. He plucked out an SD card.

“They would need this to keep the phone secure. Nobody would be able to accidentally call it. So, we can trace whoever’s been feeding him orders.”

“You’re welcome,” Joker sang sung in his ear. Batman ignored him, slipping the card into his communications. A loading bar started filling in the upper right corner of his vision.

“We need a break when all this is over,” Robin remarked, twirling his staff. “We’ve only been back a few nights and it feels like we never left at all. I forgot how exhausting this is; I was getting used to having a normal sleeping schedule.”

Bruce didn’t admit it, but he felt what Robin was talking about. He suddenly became very aware of the weariness in his muscles, his drooping eyelids that cried out for sleep, and his racing mind that wouldn’t stay still. That was the worst part, he decided. The physical pain and exhaustion were unpleasant, but he could power through them. His mind, though, was a different matter. His thoughts zipped through his head, one after the other, and he couldn’t get a solid grip on any one of them. In retirement, he had taught himself meditation, so that he could calm his mind when it demanded stimulation. Now that he was in the field again, his thoughts had taken off completely and he could barely make sense of them.

“Too many nights by the fire and not enough in the gym, eh?” Joker taunted him from one of the table chairs. “Let yourself go in more ways than one. Bet you wouldn’t be needing a nap about now if you’d bothered to keep yourself fit.”

Bruce tried to block out his words. It’s what he’d always done to deal with Joker. Block out his prattling, don’t let yourself get distracted, and power on through. But whatever block he had used in the past wasn’t working here. Joker’s words cut right through, fanning Bruce’s temper. He’d never thought of himself having an ego, but every jab chipped away painfully at it.

“Uh, Bruce?” Robin snapped his fingers below his nose. “You alright?”

“Yes,” he replied, trying not to sound too defensive. “Why?”

“Well, you’ve just been standing there looking like somebody kicked your dog. What’re you thinking?”

Bruce considered telling Tim the truth, that he was exhausted and didn’t want to admit it. That he was fighting through a hallucinatory Joker that still hadn’t gone away. But then he saw Joker leaning against the wall, clutching his hip and making a miserable face.

“I’m just impatient,” he replied, clenching his fist. “We need to find whoever’s on the other end of this chip.” The loading bar in his vision was only at fifty-two percent. His comlink earpiece came to life.

“Hey Barb, we need some help with a phone card. Trying to figure out who’s on the other end.”

Bruce was grateful that Tim had made the call. He couldn’t bring himself to ask for help right now. A few seconds later, the card had been fully analyzed.

“The World’s Greatest Detective,” Joker mused, “needs help from a bitch with a bachelor’s degree. This is fucking sad.”

The cowl’s comlink crackled and whined as it tuned itself to the right frequency. Soon, Batman and Robin could hear voices.

“The Penguin is compromised and Black Mask has been eliminated.” The man was military; Batman could tell just by the way he talked, concise and professional. “We’ve attempted contact with the Mad Hatter, but he hasn’t responded.”

“Keep the bank hostages secure,” said another voice. It was so warped by filters that Bruce had trouble deciphering anything about it: age, gender, accent, anything. “If Batman takes Gotham National, we lose our cash supply. Hold down that position!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Oracle,” Bruce barked into his own comlink channel, “analyze the vocal sample I just sent you. Break it down and then find out who it is. Search every data bank on the planet until you can give me a name.”

“Got it. You two coming back to the cave?”

“No. Whoever was working with Tetch has hostages at the Gotham National Bank. We need to save them.”

“Shouldn’t we send the cops first?” Robin asked, tentatively. “After what just happened, maybe we should be more cautious about running into hostage situations?”

“He’s got a point, Bruce,” Barb agreed. “We can let my dad know about it. He could go in first, make sure it’s not a fake call.”

“Yes.” Joker’s voice came from his earpiece. “Leave it up to Gordon, Bats. Jimbo’s twice your age and could still handle this better than you right now.”

Bruce gritted his teeth. His face went red. His face hurt from how hard he was glaring.

“If we send Gordon, he’ll be out of his element,” he said, bluntly. “Whoever this is, they’ve managed to bring at least three of the city’s major supercriminals under their control. This isn’t something the cops can handle.  _ We _ have to do this to avoid any casualties.”

There was a long pause. Robin looked at him wearily. Joker smiled.

Finally, Barb sighed.

“Okay, Bruce. Just... be careful. We don’t know how quickly you’ll recover from the gas.”

“Don’t worry.” Bruce sounded more insistent than assuring.

The duo shot their grapplers out the window. They leapt across the rooftops towards Gotham National.

“Whee!” cried the Joker, leaping along with them. He bounded from roof to roof like a cartoon. “I can see why you don’t use the Batmobile these days! This is fun! I didn’t think you knew what fun was!”

* * *

**Gotham National Bank, 1am**

Getting past the guards stationed outside was easy.

Getting inside the bank without getting caught was slightly more difficult.

Clearing the entire room was going to be the real challenge.

The hostages were all being kept inside the main vault. The door was locked up tight and guards were stationed both inside and out. Other henchmen patrolled the bank's main floor, checking the vents, scanning any vantage points and checking even the smallest nooks and crannies.

“Somebody’s trained them to look for us,” Bruce whispered to Robin, who nodded in agreement. The two were hiding tucked away in the shadows, where none of the henchmen had ventured yet.

“Look at the way they make their sweeps,” Robin pointed out. “They’re avoiding any blindspots, making it so that everybody’s in sight of each other. No clean opportunities for a stealthy approach.”

“So, we’ll make an unclean opportunity,” Bruce and Joker said at the same time. He blinked and shook his head. The Joker just grinned.

“Are we finally seeing eye-to-eye, Brucie? After all these years of clashing, we’re in sync for once. And all it took was me getting inside your head. If I’d known it was  _ that _ easy...”

Robin gently laid a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. Joker immediately disappeared. His partner didn’t say anything, waiting for him to collect himself.

“Smoke pellets,” Bruce whispered finally. “It’ll startle them, get their attention. They’ll start spreading out, probably in groups of two or three. Take them out anyway and don’t be afraid to make some noise; it’ll scare them, cloud their judgement.”

Robin smirked.

One by one, each set of henchmen found their worlds engulfed in smoke. They only had enough time to cough, sputter and shoot their guns into the air before their skulls were slammed into the floor. Cries of terror and snaps of breaking bones drew more henchmen out of their established patrol routes. Their guns shook in their hands and more than once someone’s finger slipped on the trigger, firing into the air and terrifying his comrades. This made them more unhinged and easier to remove from the room.

Batman didn’t take the time to enjoy this spectacle of fear as he normally would. He was laser focused on clearing the room. Joker’s words still stuck in his head, though he'd never admit that to anyone. Even himself.

_ “Jimbo’s twice your age and could still handle this better than you right now.” _

_ Could he do this? _ he thought bitterly, slamming a henchman’s face into a marble wall. There was a loud crack and the henchman fell to the floor. A splatter of red covered the alabaster stone. His fingers twitched and his arms and legs jumped with little spasms.

“That’s all of them,” Robin called out as he landed beside him. “I’ve called Gordon to come pick them up. The hostages too, once we have them secure.” He looked down at the henchman’s twitching form and the red splatter on the wall. “Jesus, what did  _ he _ do to piss you off?”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Bruce replied. At the same time as the Joker.

Bruce whipped around, trying to shut off the Joker from his thoughts. It hurt his head to do it and a vein pulsed behind his eye with the effort. He set to work on the computer that controlled the safe door. Joker leaned against the door, picking something out of his teeth.

“Wonder what that could be,” he mused, flicking whatever it was off his finger. “I mean, I don’t have to eat. Hell, I  _ can’t _ eat, so what the heck was that?”

Bruce’s head buzzed and ached at the same time. He was lightheaded and top heavy. It was dizzying and uncomfortable and out of his control. He tapped the keys harder.

“Haven’t gone this much without sleeping in awhile, eh, Brucie Boy?” Joker leaned against the computer. “When was the last time you had a night that lasted this long? Was it with Selina or Diana? You’ve got so much pussy thrown at you it’s hard to keep track, isn’t it?”

Bruce was grateful that this suit had a complete mask to hide his burning face. The Joker, of all people, making  _ him _ ashamed and embarrassed?

“You must be tired if you left  _ that _ mark on the wall,” he said, jerking his thumb to the smear of red on the white marble. “Can’t remember the last time you lost control like that. Maybe the first time you saw me after your second Boy Blunder croaked?”

Finally, the massive circular door opened a crack. The click of a safety sounded from the other side.

“We were given orders to kill these people, Batman, if you come inside this safe.” The voice was the same one he had heard over the comlink, the military man. “Evacuate the building or we will be forced to fire.”

“The GCPD are on their way,” Batman called. “In a few minutes, you’ll be outnumbered. And whether you kill those hostages or not, you will be arrested and likely imprisoned.”

There was silence inside the safe room. Then, a canister rolled slowly out of the door.

Bruce had just enough time to cover his face before the flashbang burst into a cacophony. While his vision remained intact thanks to the mask’s automatic light compensators, his ears were ringing and he felt off balance.

The four guards burst from the safe, pushing the terrified hostages before them at gunpoint. They ran for the exits, their captives sobbing and whimpering. Batman slowly followed just far enough away so they wouldn’t shoot.

“We’re taking these people with us, Batman,” the guard said, backing up towards the door. The muzzle of his beretta 92 rested against the temple of a struggling woman. “If you come after us, they will die.”

Joker leaned on Bruce’s shoulder. “What if Robin went after them instead?” he asked. Batman looked up; Robin was perched on a gargoyle just above the door. Bruce tensed; Robin had only one shot to get all of them at once. He didn’t know if he was fast enough to do it without getting the hostages hurt.

“Still, it’s not like you can do much right now, eh?” Joker remarked. “Given the distance between you and them and your, uh, less than able physical state.”

Bruce ground his teeth and raised his hands above his head.

“Just stay there!” the guard shouted, pushing the gun harder against the hostage. She whimpered and let out a choked sob. The guards backed toward the door, never once noticing Robin above them. It was still too dangerous to make a move. They needed to be closer together, so Robin could take them down one at a time quickly. Just a little further to the door...

_ BLAM! _

The bank’s bullet proof windows were punctured with four holes. The guards’ heads exploded into a shower of red. The hostages screamed and ducked, grabbing their heads as they were covered in blood and bits of brain. Robin dropped down. Batman ran forward and both covered the shivering hostages with their capes.

There was a tense moment where the world seemed to stop. After the explosion of the gunshot, the shivering and whimpering of the hostages seemed quiet.

“You can let down your guard, now, Batman,” someone said through their comlinks. It was the filtered voice and Bruce shivered at how inhuman it sounded. “I’ve called off the snipers. You and your associate have nothing to worry about. Nor do the hostages. This was only an experiment, to see if you had found our private frequency. The hostages were only ever bait. For you.”

Batman and Robin didn’t respond. Instead, they let the person keep talking as they did their best to comfort the still terrified hostages.

“I’m contacting you to give you a word of warning,” they continued. “We have plans that don’t involve you in them. If you will stop interfering now, we will leave you and your associates alone. If you continue to be a problem, you and your loved ones will die. It’s that simple... Mr. Wayne.”

The line went dead.

Robin swallowed.

Bruce felt like his world had flipped upside down.

“Oooohhh hoo hoo hoo hoo,” the Joker giggled. “I  _ like _ this guy.”


	7. A Bat Without His Flock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman goes alone to find clues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: the following contains brief descriptions of a panic attack. Even though I'm not sure it's well-written enough to trigger anything, I'll put the warning here anyway. Better safe than sorry.
> 
> Thanks again to LLewtwo for being an amazing Beta!

_"The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four people is suffering from a mental illness. Look at your 3 best friends. If they're ok, then it's you."_

_-Rita Mae Brown_

* * *

The Batmobile screeched to a halt in the Batcave. Bats, disrupted by the sound of squealing tires, flew from their perches above, filling the cave with squeaks and flapping wings.

“I know it’s, like, your whole thing,” Joker remarked as Bruce and Tim leapt from the car, “but I think you may have gone overboard with the bat motif. I mean, you _actually_ have your secret hideout in a cave. Overkill, if you ask me.”

 _I didn’t ask you,_ Bruce nearly snapped back. Joker was becoming louder, more real-looking. He thought it would’ve gone away given time, but it was only getting stronger.

“Oh, I think you’ve got bigger problems than me right now,” Joker snarked in his earpiece. Suddenly, the warped voice crackled back in his ear. “ _I mean, who is this guy? Thinking he can walk all over Batman! Then again, he won’t be going after Batman, will he? He’ll be going after... Mr. Wayne._ ” Joker cackled in his own voice.

Bruce’s heart pounded as he ran to the Batcave’s main level. He saw Barbara safe at the Batcomputer, but he didn’t relax. He wouldn’t relax until he’d made sure everybody in the manor was in the cave.

Barbara looked up from the computer. She looked indignant.

“You guys could’ve called ahead,” she snapped. “I didn’t hear a thing from you after you went to the bank. What happened?”

Bruce ran past her, leaving Tim to explain the situation. He flew up the stairs and into the sitting room. His thoughts were scrambled, completely unhinged by fear. He only had one coherent impulse: find Alfred and get him into the cave.

For a few scary minutes, he ran from room to room. Everywhere from the dining room to the bathroom was vacant. Bruce’s hands shook. Sweat coated his body. He was hyperventilating. He leaned against a wall in the entrance hall, trying to keep his hands steady. He tried to get back control, but he couldn’t seem to calm himself down. He had been scared before, but this went beyond fear. This broke beyond his control and had its way with him. He had read enough medical textbooks to recognize the symptoms of an anxiety attack, but he couldn't believe it was happening to _him._ He'd never had one before; he had always thought of himself being...

“Being above it all?” Joker finished the thought. He leaned against the wall beside Bruce. “Well, maybe at one point, Batsy, but that was years ago. Your mind’s gone to hell along with your body. Batman, master of fear, monster of the night, brought to his knees by an anxiety attack. Oh how the mighty have fallen.”

“SHUT UP!” Bruce finally screamed, ripping off his helmet and covering his ears. For a moment, one insane moment, he thought it might’ve worked. He didn’t hear or see any sign of the Joker. He slowly lowered his hands.

Then his world was nothing _but_ Joker.

Cackling filled his ears. He tried covering them, but it only got louder. Hundreds and hundreds of Jokers were laughing at him. He shut his eyes, thinking maybe he could focus in darkness, but Joker’s face jumped out at him from the black. He was still _laughing_ at him.

“Go away!” Bruce shouted. The Jokers only laughed louder. Joker’s face only came closer.

“Can’t even take back your own mind, Brucie?” Joker taunted over the chorus of laughter. “Look at how easily I did this to you! How’re you supposed to protect the family if you can’t fence off your own brain?”

Bruce crumpled to the floor. He didn’t know what else to do. Joker kept smiling at him and the laughter _just wouldn’t stop!_

“Bruce!”

Bruce clasped the hand on his shoulder and flipped his attacker to the floor.

“Ow! Jesus!”

Bruce blinked. His world was still wobbly and unfocused, but he could’ve sworn that voice sounded familiar.

“What the hell, Bruce? You haven’t jumped me like that since I was fifteen!”

The face of Dick Grayson finally came into focus. He was on the floor and Bruce was holding him there, poised to strike him.

He quickly let go and staggered back straight into someone else. He jumped and spun around to find a flinching Alfred.

“Sir, we heard you shouting from upstairs,” he said. His face was crumpled with concern. It was the most emotion Bruce had seen from Alfred in the last twenty years. “What happened? Who were you yelling at? Why-”

“Get in the cave,” Bruce ordered. His knees buckled and he hit the floor.

“What’s going on?” Dick asked, putting Bruce’s arm on his shoulders.

“We’ll explain,” Bruce muttered.

“Bruce, look at you! You need to sit down!”

“I’ll sit down in the cave!” Bruce nearly shrieked. “Please!”

Dick and Alfred exchanged a concerned look, but they helped Bruce shakily to his feet and guided him back to the clock door.

Bruce’s whole body felt weak. He had no energy to spare. He had never felt so completely drained.

And the laughter still echoed in his ears.

* * *

Barbara briefed them while they gathered around the Batcomputer screen.

“That audio sample you sent me of the guy’s voice? I can’t make heads or tails of it,” she confessed. She opened the sound file, the visual sound dipping and spiking on the timeline.

“It’s mixed in with a ton of other samples. Squealing car brakes, random humming, I think there’s a lion’s roar in there. That’s easy to clear away. What’s not are the vocal samples.” She highlighted one layer of the audio and five individual windows popped up. “There are five different voices that speak whenever he speaks. Three of them the computer identified immediately as civilians outside of Gotham. The other two were completely unknown. I ran them through every database on the planet and found nothing; those two voices have never been recorded or captured before now. And, with our luck, one of those two is the one we’re looking for.”

“What about ballistics?” asked Dick, who started pacing along the rows of Batsuits in their glass cases. “What’d we find out from the sniper shots?”

“All the shots were of different make and origin.” Barb’s shoulders slumped. “We’ve got nothing to go on.”

The Batcave went silent. Even the bats settled above them. Tim put his hand on Barb’s shoulder and she gripped it, her knuckles white. Dick began pacing faster. Alfred remained stoic, thought Bruce could see the slight shiver of his body. He crumpled up the wrapper from the energy bar the others had forced him to eat.

This was bad. This was _really_ bad. How could they fight an enemy who knew so much about them when they knew _nothing_ about him?

Bruce pinched his nose. He was still exhausted even after the energy bar. And he could still hear Joker’s laughter. It was there on the edge of his hearing, in the back of his mind, bubbling beneath his consciousness. And he could still see his face behind his eyes.

Bruce felt a lightbulb go off in his head.

_His face..._

“What can we get on facial recognition?” he asked. Barb looked confused.

“On who?”

“The men at the bank.” Bruce got up and brought up a new window on the computer. “Those weren’t thugs hired by any of the usual crime lords. They would’ve been wearing gang uniforms. I have a hunch that those men were hired by our mystery newcomer. And if we can get a clean picture from the footage taken at the scene-”

“-then maybe we can find a lead to follow!” Barbara exclaimed, excited. She rolled over to the keyboard and batted Bruce’s hands away. “Outta the way, old man! I’ve got work to do!” She cracked her knuckles and began scrolling through the video footage.

“Nice one, Bats.”

Bruce managed to resist jumping when Joker walked up behind him.

“Looks like all you needed was a little snack,” he snarked. “Though a good night’s sleep wouldn’t hurt either, I suppose. It would make the bags under your eyes a little less... pronounced.”

“Shall I make us all a cup of tea, Master Bruce?” asked Alfred. “I know just the thing to bring us all down from this nasty shock.”

A few minutes later, they were all sipping at their tea, waiting for the facial recognition software to process the footage. Bruce tried not to drink too much; he suspected Alfred had made this to lull him to sleep.

Barb cleared her throat. “It’s good to see you, Dick.”

“You too, congratulations.”

“You too- I mean thanks.” Barb took an awkward sip of her tea. Dick smirked.

Bruce was tempted to smile himself. With Dick in Bludhaven and Tim and Barb engaged, he couldn’t remember the last time all of them were in the same room.

“Well, _almost_ all of you.”

Bruce turned to see Joker leaning against one of the glass cases. This one was separated from the rest in a glass cylinder all its own, under a dim light so it glowed with soft red and yellow highlights.

“My finest hour, if you ask me.” Joker slowly circled it, dragging his finger along the glass. “I’m flattered that you put it in a place of honor. And you even sewed up the tears. That’s impressive; it took a lot of force to split that kevlar. I can imagine it was a pain to stitch up.”

Bruce shook with the memory of Joker’s “finest hour.” He’s been so scared. He’d searched for months and never found him. Then, Joker had sent him the video tape. Jason was tied to a chair, whimpering and shaking uncontrollably. His lip was split, his left eye was swollen shut and a bald patch had been shaved right through the middle of his head.

Then, Joker took out the crowbar.

_WHACK! A tooth went flying._

_“Come and find us, Batsy! Dingy old barn, south of Gotham.”_

_WHACK! Jason’s jaw broke._

_“You’ve got ten minutes to haul ass over here.”_

_WHACK! A punctured lung._

_“After that... I can’t make promises that you’ll find a whole corpse.”_

_WHACK! A fractured skull._

_“Hell, I’d be surprised if you found a whole leg after this.”_

_WHACK! Jason fell out of the frame._

“We’ve got something!”

Bruce shook his head and turned to the computer screen. The progress bar was full and the screen showed four mugshots. Barbara tapped a few keys and five boxes of text popped open.

“The computer will go through their backgrounds and look for a connection,” she explained. “Depending on how few links there are between them, this could take awhile-”

_BEEP BEEP_

Barbara looked at the computer confused. “That was... weirdly quick.” She tapped on the notification and brought up the computer’s findings. Everybody’s eyes went wide.

_CONNECTION FOUND_

_FORMER EMPLOYEES OF ARKHAM CITY’S TYGER SECURITY FORCE_

“It can’t be...” Barbara’s voice was shaking. “It can’t be... _Strange_ , can it?”

Bruce stroked his chin. “No,” he decided.

“Are you sure?” Barb insisted. “He knew about the Lazarus pit and-”

“Him and Ra’s weren’t exactly friends till the end,” said Tim. “Besides, he was blown up. Kind of hard to gather that many little pieces together for-”

“That explanation will satisfy, Master Tim,” interrupted Alfred.

“Right, sorry.”

“What does this get us, though?” asked Dick. “It can’t be coincidence that all of them were Arkham Tyger guards, but what does that do for us? Arkham City’s been shut down for years. Hugo Strange is dead. So, where do we go from here?”

“Ra’s al Ghul.”

Everyone whipped around at Bruce. He stroked his chin, frowning.

“Ra’s had a lair under Arkham City, a base of operations large enough to house a majority of his forces.”

Dick cocked an eyebrow. “Well, first, you destroyed that lair. And two, Ra’s is dead too. He stabbed himself on the way down from Wonder Tower.”

“The body went missing,” Bruce confessed. The cave went dead silent. Bruce sighed.

“I went back to get him after... after Joker died,” he continued. “He’d landed in the processing courtyard, but when I got back, he was gone. There wasn’t a trace of him anywhere.”

“And you didn’t tell us because?” Barbara asked, arms crossed.

“It wasn't important at the time,” Bruce snapped. “There was the fallout from Arkham City, the transfer of prisoners, the attempted mass breakout. There were just... more immediate things to take care of.”

Barb laced her fingers and took a deep breath. “So, we go investigate the old League of Assassins hideout beneath the city. What happens if Ra’s isn’t there?”

“We’ll deal with that if it comes,” Bruce said, moving to a cylindrical indent in the wall. Bruce had installed this early in his career, after he had to get himself out of a three piece suit to go deal with a robbery. The thieves had gotten away by the time he showed up to the bank. Now, he could just step into this room and a mesh of mechanical arms would do the suit change for him.

“Master Bruce, I highly advise _against_ going out again so soon. Besides, your face hasn’t sufficiently healed enough for you to wear a mask.”

Bruce stopped, trying to fight down his temper and his desire to go in the room anyway. Joker was smirking right in his face.

“Actually, I think that might be a good call for all of us,” Tim suggested. “We’ve been at this nonstop for, what, a day and a half? I need some sleep.”

“Same,” Dick added.

Barbara yawned.

For some reason, knowing that everyone else was as tired as he was made Bruce feel a little better.

They all scattered to their different rooms around the manor. Bruce sat on the edge of his bed as Alfred applied ointment to his joints.

“I just don’t know how long we can afford to wait,” he said. “If Ra’s is behind this, he’s not going to wait for us.”

“The world never ended because someone took a power nap, sir,” the butler replied. “Three hours of shut eye will be all you need. Then, you can go back to fighting resurrected ninjas.”

“Well, when you put it _that_ way,” Bruce grinned.

Alfred put away the ointment as Bruce slid under his sheets. He was reminded of the last time the two of them had been alone together. The venom he had spit in the face of his friend.

“Notify us once you’re awake, sir.” He made to leave.

“Thank you,” said Bruce groggily. His eyes drooped. A warm, heavy feeling spread over his whole body. Alfred stopped by the door and looked back. He smiled.

“Of course, Bruce.”

* * *

_Bruce dreamed of Talia._

_She was in the old Gotham courthouse. She was hanging over a pool of acid by her ankles. The jury stand was filled with his old enemies: The Riddler, Croc, The Ventriloquist and even Ivy._

_“Mr. Wayne!”_

_Bruce started, finding himself in the witness stand. His wrists and ankles were shackled to the chair. The scarred face of Harvey Dent glared at him from the prosecution table._

_“Where were you on the night of the defendant’s death?”_

_“I was with her,” Bruce admitted, struggling against his chains. The jury jeered._

_“And did you see the defendant attempt to murder my client’s lover?”_

_Bruce looked to see Harley Quinn, dressed in black, weeping at the prosecution table._

_“Yes,” he said. “But she didn’t- it wasn’t-”_

_“And were you aware of the defendant's plans of an earthly cleansing?”_

_Bruce struggled harder against his chains. “Yes.”_

_“And what did you do to stop her and her father?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_“And do you deny seeing other women romantically before and after her death? Without her knowledge?”_

_Bruce looked at Talia. Tears fell down her forehead and into the spitting acid. He didn’t want to say it, but the word was ripped from his mouth._

_“No. I don’t deny it.”_

_The jury sneered and booed him. The Riddler threw a little trophy at his head._

_“Well, your honor, I think we have a cut and dry case. The defendant is a murderer who planned on genocide. And the primary witness, her unfaithful lover, did nothing to stop her. What do you say to that?”_

_“Well, since you asked...”_

_Bruce paled. He looked up at the judge’s podium. The Joker smiled back from under the white powdered wig._

_“I think we dump her in the acid!” The jury cheered. Joker hammered his rubber chicken for quiet._

_“For the witness, though...” He rubbed his chin, thinking. “I suppose we could keep him asleep a little longer. The longer he sleeps, the more time ol’ Razzy will have to get his plans together. What do we say?”_

_The jury cheered again, stamping their feet and raising their fists. The Joker smiled wide._

_“I see the jury’s in agreement! Excellent! Case closed!”_

_Bruce looked back at Talia. She wouldn’t look back at him. Her face was set in stone, resolute and unafraid of death. The rope around her ankles snapped. She hit the acid with a hiss. She dissolved immediately._

_Bruce screamed. He struggled against his bonds. He thrashed and struggled._

_The court laughed at him._

_“Sorry, Brucie.” Joker reached for a lever beside his chair. “But, really, you only have yourself to blame.”_

_He pulled the lever. And Bruce fell for a long time._

* * *

Bruce woke up soaked in sweat. He was shaking, the fear of the dreaming following him into consciousness. He clenched the sheets, trying to steady his breathing.

 _Talia’s death wasn’t your fault,_ he told himself. He wondered how many times he had to tell himself that before he believed it.

He checked the clock on his nightstand. 3:30am. He’d only been asleep for an hour.

He got up, careful on his sore, shaking legs, and went to the bathroom. He flipped on the lights and jumped at his reflection. Or, what was supposed to be his reflection.

“Hell of a dream, eh, Brucie?” Joker said from the mirror. He copied Bruce as he opened the drawers, fishing around for the melatonin tablets. “Personally, I try my best not to have them. You wouldn’t believe the sleeping pills Crane can cook up. Maybe we should ask him.”

“There is no _we_ ,” Bruce growled.

“Oh, _now_ you’re gonna talk to me? When we’re alone, but not with your little sidekicks? Why don’t you acknowledge me in public, Batsy? I feel like a celebrity’s mistress cooped up in here!”

Bruce popped open the bottle and poured out a tablet.

“I was right, y’know,” said Joker. “The longer you sleep, the more time Ra’s has to work on his scheme.”

“I’ll let the others sleep a little longer.” Bruce swallowed the melatonin. “Then, we go back out and stop him.”

Joker stepped out of the mirror and followed Bruce back to his bed. “Since when do you need _them_? They’re children, for Christ’s sake. Besides, you beat Ra’s solo in Arkham City. What’s to stop you now?”

“I know what you’re doing.” Bruce looked Joker in the eye, blue meeting green. “You’re playing on my insecurities, trying to get me to do something dangerous. Then, you can take over.”

“Does that make a lot of sense to you, Bats?” He sat across from Bruce. “I’m a figment of your imagination, right? Brought on by a combination of fear toxin and hypnosis _under_ said fear toxin. How does it make sense that _I_ could possibly take over your body? I don’t even know where you _got_ that idea. And even if I could do that, why would I want to? I’m safe inside your head, living a second life. Sure, I prod and poke you. I get your temper up a little. I cause you a slight panic attack every once and awhile. But really, honestly, I’m just as invested in your safety as anyone else. You die, I die. You think I’d send you into danger, putting myself in the line of fire, just for the hell of it?”

“Yes.”

They stared at each other. Then Joker smiled.

“I forgot how well you know me, Bats. That’s why I latched onto you in the first place. Alright, yeah, I’d totally throw you in front of a bullet for a cheap laugh. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m right: the more you sleep, the more time you give to Ra’s.”

“One more hour of sleep won’t destroy Gotham,” Bruce replied, slipping back under the covers.

“It certainly didn’t do Jason and Talia any favors.”

Bruce froze. Joker smirked.

“Ten minutes to get Jason. You didn’t make it and he died. You could’ve gone after Talia right away, but you didn’t. You put the safety of criminals who meant nothing to you over the woman you supposedly loved. I probably would’ve had less time to set up that trap if you’d gone after us right away.”

Joker flopped down on the bed next to Bruce.

“But, whatever. Your body, your rules.” He fluffed the pillow. “Goodnight, Batsy. I’ll see you in a few hours when Gotham is ashes. How rich are you, by the way? Because I doubt even _you_ could pay for the mass grave required for that catastrophe.”

Bruce leapt on Joker. He slammed his fists into the mattress, growling and thrashing. Joker’s laughter echoed at a distance through his head. He pulled his hair, panting. Where the Joker had been, his father’s body now lay. Then it was his mother’s. Then Jason. Then Talia. Even the prisoner who had given birth in Blackgate. He had never learned her name. He had forgotten the name of her child. He had forgotten to keep fighting for her freedom. The years had made him forget; another victim of time.

Bruce leapt out of bed, quietly making his way through the halls, down the stairs and to the Batcave.

Joker was quietly giggling the whole time.

* * *

**“Arkham Land”**

The area that had been Arkham City was now a slum. Lines of shacks served as houses for hundreds of people. The apartments had no landlords or permanent tenants. Crime was the law here now. Everyone was at each other’s throats and there was no government to stop them. The mayor had declared the area a quarantine zone; nobody, not even the police, was allowed to come here.

They had shut down Arkham City, but it was still pretty much here. Bruce Wayne had pleaded with Mayor Garcia to let Wayne Enterprises provide the section with food and shelter, but he was refused. According to Mayor Garcia, the only people in “Arkham Land” were criminals who deserved their situation.

Batman glided across the rooftops, looking at the ruin below. The cracked streets were empty. The only sound was the wind flapping through his cape.

“Nice work, Bats,” Joker snarked in his earpiece. “You shut down Arkham City, leaving the mayor with a huge chunk of land they had nothing to do with. Congratulations. You saved a bunch of criminals so a bunch of hobos could take their place.”

Bruce shook his head; the melatonin and painkillers were fogging up his brain, making Joker louder. He tried to focus on something present, like the pain in his face. The prototype armor suit hadn’t been repaired yet, so he had to don his normal suit. The cowl pinched his bruised and swollen face and made misery out of every movement.

Batman landed outside the old theater. The doors had rotted off the hinges. The marquee was devoid of letters. It looked dead.

_Like my parents behind the building. Like Talia on the stage._

He took a deep breath and stepped through the broken doors.

The theater was pitch black. Through his Detective Vision, he could see that nothing had been repaired since his fight with Clayface five years ago. The stage was caved in. The box seats had been blown up. And the whole floor was gone. At the time, the destruction had been dynamic, alive in a way. Now, it was all death and rot.

Batman jumped down through the hole, landing in the former Lazerus chamber of Ra’s al Ghul. It was barren. Nobody here. But Bruce couldn’t help remembering. He walked around the room, to the edge of the destroyed Lazarus pit, where he’d pushed in Clayface. This was where Talia’s body had fallen when the floor was destroyed. And that was where Joker had died.

Bruce stopped there; he could still hear Joker’s last, weak laugh. He could see his dead smile on his ruined face...

His Detective Vision brought up a small window in the bottom right.

_ONE LIFE SIGN DETECTED_

_25FT AHEAD/DOWN_

Batman looked up and saw, past this room and down a level, was a blue humanoid blur.

Batman took off after it, dropping into the sewers and emerging into the streets of the long-abandoned Wonder City. The figure was in one of the buildings, flitting about here and there. The Detective Vision was picking up traces of chemicals in the air and soon the computer identified them: fear toxin.

Batman smashed through the window, slamming right into Scarecrow and knocking him against the table he’d been working at. Beakers full of chemicals crashed to the floor, their contents hissing and smoking as they came in contact with each other. Scarecrow wheezed, trying to steady himself, but Batman pinned him to the wall.

“I’ve been looking for you, Crane,” he growled. “You’ve been causing me a lot of pain.”

“Not as much as you’ve caused me, Bat!” Scarecrow spat. Batman hadn’t seen him since the Asylum, since Killer Croc had dragged him into the sewers. His face was hidden under a torn mask that didn’t hide the missing chunk of lip. The left eyehole had been sewn shut.

“I’ll hurt you even more if you don’t give me what I want!” he snarled, slamming him against the wall. “Where is Ra’s al Ghul? What’s his plan?”

“Ra’s al Ghul is dead, you fool!”

Batman punched him in the gut and he bent over, wheezing.

“Ra’s al Ghul’s been dead before. He’s come back. Where is he?”

Scarecrow continued wheezing. The room was quickly filling with smoke.

“Ugh!” the Joker sighed, sitting on the chemical table. “This is already taking too long. Hit him again, Bats!”

Bruce clenched his fist; he knew exactly the spot that would hurt the most...

“Ra’s...” Scarecrow gasped. “...al Ghul... is... dead.”

Joker snarled. “Do it!”

Batman twisted Scarecrow’s wrist until he screamed. He bent down and punched his kneecap, dislocating it. Scarecrow fell to the floor with a howl. He curled up, whimpering.

“Where is he!?” Bruce shouted, blood pounding in his ears. Scarecrow only whimpered more quietly. Batman slammed his head against the floor. “Tell me where he is!”

“Fear...” Scarecrow whispered. “Wounds deeper... than your brutality... Batman.”

Scarecrow moved faster than Bruce expected. There was a glint of metal through the air. Then a sharp, four-pronged sting in his face. Something pumped into his body.

Then, his world became chaos.

Scarecrow exploded into a flock of bats that flew into his face. He backed away, falling out of the window and into the streets of Wonder City. The old steam-powered robots along the street broke out of their glass cases and stalked towards him. They circled him, six of them in total, before two of them lunged.

Batman managed to block their attacks, but they recovered quickly, each getting in a kick to the legs. Bruce crumpled and they punched him in the head, knocking his face into the ground.

“C’mon, get up!” Joker cried. “You can’t die to a bunch of robots! That’s just undignified for someone of _your_ calibre!”

Bruce stayed down, waiting for them to hit him again. But they didn’t.

Bruce got shakily, painfully, to his feet and looked up. He fell right back to the ground.

Talia stared down at him with glassy, white eyes. Her skin was pale and rotting. Her hair was falling out. A patch of her skull was exposed. She had a red hole oozing blood in the middle of her chest.

Jason stood beside her. His eyes were gone. His leg was missing, the broken bone sticking out the end. His Robin suit was torn and burned in the same way it was when he had died.

“Why couldn’t you save us, Bruce?” they said together. “We loved you. Didn’t you love us?”

“Of course, I did!” he cried. Tears fell down his mask.

“Then why didn’t you tell us?” they asked.

“Why did you not stay loyal to me?” Talia’s voice cracked with pain.

“Why did you replace me?” Jason demanded.

Bruce didn’t have answers for either of them. He gritted his teeth, trying to remind himself that this was the toxin taking effect. These were robots. They were attacking him and he needed to fight back.

It didn’t stop him feeling guilty for punching them.

Every robot looked like someone he’d failed: Barbara, Jim, Diana, Selina, the mother from Blackgate. He powered through till every last one of them was on the floor.

“Wow, you are one heartless bastard.” The Joker almost sounded impressed. “You made yourself punch things that looked like your loved ones. Sure, it was fear toxin, but I don’t know _anybody_ else who would’ve done what you did. Either that makes you stronger than the rest... or it just makes you like me.”

Bruce fell to his knees. He was so tired. Tired from all the fighting and lack of sleep. Tired of Joker’s prattling. Tired of his ongoing commentary.

And he was tired of being afraid that what Joker was saying might be right.

Footsteps came up behind him. Batman whipped around, priming a batarang. The world was blurry. He could see someone coming, but he couldn’t make out who it was.

The figure got closer. It was an old man. He was broad, with a strong jaw and white hair. He walked with a sleek wooden cane.

“Who are you?” Bruce demanded. The old man walked right up to him, staring at him. Something about the man was familiar. His frown lines, the attentive look in his eye, the scars on his veiny hands.

The old man punched him in the face. Bruce went flying back and the world suddenly became clear. Footsteps walked toward him, the same step as the old man. But instead of him, Bruce saw a masked figure, wearing a garish parody of his cowl; the face was completely covered with glass that blinked and shifted. He was wearing military camouflage and a large Arkham “A” stood out on his chest.

“We told you to stay out of the way,” he said in that garbled, inhuman voice. “We told you we would kill you and everyone you loved. And you _still_ wanted to fuck with us!”

He pulled a black SIG M17 from his hip.

“We were going to save you for last.” He lowered the gun to Bruce’s chest. The nose fit right between the armor plates. Bruce grabbed feebly at his arm “Instead, you’re going to be the first.”

_BANG!_

Bruce was engulfed in blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments over kudos. Let me hear you.


	8. Closet Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman pushes forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to LLewtwo for being this chapter's beta. That's like five I owe you.

_ "No man is an island entire of itself." _

_ -John Donne _

* * *

“He’s gone crazy!”

The words came to Bruce from the end of a long, dark tunnel.

“It’s just his usual stubbornness. He’ll get out of it when he wakes up.”

They slammed into his ears, like a hammer hitting a bell.

“It’s not just that, Dick! This is... suicidal! Going into the field himself? While he’s injured and exhausted? At his age?”

Bruce struggled to open his eyelids. It was like they were glued together.

“Barb, he knows what he’s doing. How many times have we thought he was crazy only for it to turn out he had a plan?”

Light slowly crept into his vision.

“Those plans didn’t almost get him killed.”

Bruce blinked up at the stalactites hanging from the Batcave ceiling. An extinguished exam light looked down at him.

He tried sitting up and immediately fell back down on the bed with a grunt. Bruce had learned early on in his career that abdomen injuries weren’t easily shrugged off. In movies and TV, people recovered from a punch in the gut easily. In reality, the abdomen is the core of the body, where a lot of blood and muscles are located. An injury there means a new dose of pain with every movement and a weeks-long recovery process.

“Bruce!”

Footsteps ran over. Dick looked down at him.

“How do you feel?” he asked. Bruce almost laughed.  _ How does he think I feel? I’ve got a fucking hole in my stomach. _

“I’ve been worse,” he said.

Dick guffawed. “If only that weren’t true.”

“What were you thinking, Bruce!?” Barbara rolled her chair to his side and scowled at him. Bruce had an image of her glasses catching on fire from her anger. Tim stood back from her, like he’d be burned if he tried to stop her.

“You were supposed to wake us up when  _ you _ were awake!” she went on. “Is this some... mid-life crisis bullshit? You have to prove that you can still do it by yourself? That you’re still the big man? Well, guess what? You’re  _ not _ anymore, Bruce! You can’t do it on your own and you need one of us to back you up!”

The cave was silent. Bruce’s hands curled into fists. His anger boiled and he gritted his teeth. He didn’t know why Barbara’s words hit so hard. Was it because they were true and he didn’t want to face it? Or because they were false and they would only bring him down if he believed them. Joker came up to her and aimed a gun at Barb’s head.

“Please, let me shoot her, Brucie,” he begged. “I think I aimed a bit too low last time. I’ll go for the head or, if you still want her around, the jaw. That’ll shut her up, no mistake.”

_ Or you could paralyze her vocal chords. _ Bruce thought. The image of his hand at her throat flashed across his mind.  _ Or cut them out... _

Bruce’s heart gave a jolt. Had that been  _ his _ thought? Had he really just thought of hurting Barbara?

No, he thought. It was the Joker messing with him. He would never hurt her. He’d never hurt any of them! He’d never even think about it!

_ So who’s thought was that? _ asked a mocking voice. Bruce couldn’t answer.

Barb sighed, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry for the way I said that, Bruce, but I won’t apologize for saying it. You’re not... you’re not in top shape anymore. I’m sorry, but it’s true. You need somebody to help you.”

“Like a live-in nurse,” Joker added.

“I don’t think you’ll need to worry about me for awhile,” Bruce said, reaching for his stomach. It was thickly covered in gauze. Barb winced, grabbing her own stomach.

“Still can’t believe how lucky I got with that one,” Joker mused, crouching so his face was on level with Barbara’s abdomen. “I had no idea she was Batgirl. I just wanted to piss off Gordon.” He chortled. “It’s kind of funny when you think about it.”

Bruce smirked, his lips moving against his will. Barb frowned at him.

“Bruce?” she asked. “What’re you smiling at?”

Bruce forced his face into neutrality. “Sorry, Barb. Muscle spasm.” He twitched his lips a few times. To his relief, Barb looked convinced.

“Anyway,” Tim broke in, “we’re out of leads again. Whoever that guy was, he kicked you in the face after he shot you. Crushed your helmet. Gave you a few more scars to add to the bruises. So we’ve got no audio or visual feed after that.”

“Arkham,” Bruce grumbled. The others looked at him confused. “It comes back to Arkham somehow. Those men at the bank were TYGER guards. Scarecrow was operating out of Arkham Land. My assailant wore an Arkham “A” on his chest.”

“We could investigate the old asylum,” suggested Dick. “It still hasn’t been reopened since Joker’s breakout.”

“Not one of my better plans in hindsight,” Joker commented and Bruce felt his anger and disappointment over the incident as if they were his own emotions.

“With the building abandoned,” Dick continued, “somebody easily could’ve set up a lair in the ruins.”

“Take the car and check it out,” Bruce ordered. He didn’t feel very authoritative lying in a hospital gurney. “Report anything you find.”

“It’s the middle of the day, Bruce,” Tim said. “You’ve been asleep for ten hours. We’ve gotta wait for nightfall.”

“Oh, great,” Joker complained. “We’re just gonna let Scarecrow and that bat-fake get away? You went to all that trouble to put trackers on them and now you’ve gotta wait until you can sneak out of the cave.”

Bruce felt a tiny rumble of guilt in his stomach. He hadn’t told the others about the trackers he’d planted during the fight. Not yet, anyway.

Bruce looked around. “Where’s Alfred?”

“Sleeping,” Barb replied. “He was up half the night and most of the morning patching you up. We gave him some tea and put him down for a nap.”

Bruce nodded, feeling that rumble of guilt again. How many times had Alfred stitched him up over the years? How many times had he been scared that Bruce was going to die? Hundreds, he decided, and he hadn’t thanked Alfred for a single one.

“Help me up,” he said. Dick and Tim moved to lift him up by the arms.

“And where exactly are you going?” Barb asked. She crossed her arms and glared at Tim and Dick. Joker shot a finger gun at the back of her head.

“To my room,” Bruce said through his teeth as he was lifted off the bed. “I have to make a call to Blackgate Prison and I’d rather not make it lying on a gurney.”

* * *

Alfred came into Bruce’s room with a tea tray just as Bruce threw his phone at the wall. It shattered into a dozen plastic parts.

“Just because you can afford a new phone, Master Bruce, doesn’t mean you should create excuses to get one.”

“Astrid’s missing,” Bruce growled. His face was red with rage, his hands gripped his bedsheets and everything in him just wanted to hit something.

Alfred set the tea tray down on the bedside table and began making a cup of earl grey. “And who might this Astrid be?”

“The girl in Blackgate. The innocent one.” Alfred showed no signs of recognition. “The one whose mother died.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific, sir.” He passed Bruce a cup of the steaming tea.

“Wow, even Alfred forgot?” Joker commented, spinning around one of the poles on the four-poster bed. “He usually remembers what you don’t. How long did you abandon this girl for, Bats?” Bruce had to resist throwing his cup.

“In my early days as Batman,” Bruce explained as Alfred made a cup for himself, “the Joker staged an elaborate attack on Blackgate Prison. Laughing gas flooded the halls. The cell doors were primed to shock anybody who touched them. A lot of people, both guards and prisoners, died that night.”

Alfred sat in the armchair beside the bed. “And the mother of this Astrid was one of them?”

Bruce nodded, abandoning his tea on the bedside table. “Joker had put laughing gas in the medical wing’s oxygen tanks. At the time, Astrid’s mother was giving birth. It was too late to stop it and by the time Astrid was born, her mother had laughed herself to death.”

Joker cackled. “A life beginning just as another is ending. Absolutely brilliant! It actually pisses me off that I didn’t plan that!” But Bruce could sense that Joker wasn’t angry. He was delighted; he believed that the universe had come together to give him a gift. It was a joke of such brilliant timing that only pure chance could’ve made it happen. And Bruce couldn’t deny that  _ he _ saw the irony as well. It was a little funny when he thought about it...

“How did Astrid come into the custody of Blackgate?” Alfred’s question filled Bruce with a mind-clearing rage as he remembered.

“She took her mother’s place.” He still felt the injustice of it all years later. “The courts ruled that she would continue to serve her mother’s sentence; a lifetime in prison for murder. The only consolation they offered was a chance at parole when she turned eighteen.”

Alfred’s eyes widened. “Yes, I remember now! You used to visit her almost every week!”

Bruce nodded. He remembered their visits together, even when she was a baby. He was there for her first steps and first word (“No!”). And when she could talk, he showed up every week on his side of the glass, listening as she told him about her weeks, which ranged from boring to horrifying. He had hoped that by being someone she could talk to and remind her she wasn’t alone, he could save her from a criminal life.

From what he saw, it didn’t work.

He watched her grow from a scared little girl to a young woman covered in scars. She went from wearing a permanent sad frown to a permanent glare. She heard people screaming in the other cells at night. She fought with the other inmates in the exercise yard. She was locked in solitary for days on end multiple times.

She never seemed to smile for anybody... except him. He was her one constant in life, the man who had been there literally since the beginning. After a while, it stopped becoming about trying to save her soul and he found himself looking forward to their meetings. Just to see her smile, to see the broken sadness in her eyes vanish when she saw him. He had never made anybody smile like that before...

“And you say she’s disappeared?” asked Alfred, also setting down his tea.

“As a Blackgate prisoner, she was transferred to Arkham City,” Bruce explained. “It seems she may have escaped in the mass breakout after Joker died. They never found her.”

“How is it you didn’t know about this before, sir?”

“Yes, tell him Batsy!” Joker flopped onto his stomach on the bed. “Tell him how you, practically her father, didn’t know she went missing.” Bruce turned his face away from Alfred. His jaw clenched in shame and embarrassment.

“I... forgot,” he admitted, lamely. Joker laughed so hard it hurt Bruce’s ears.

“Excuse me?” Alfred cocked an eyebrow.

“I had too much to focus on,” Bruce said defensively. “I had to help with the breakout, the gang war after Joker’s death. I just... didn’t have time.” He’d been falling behind on his visits since Joker’s attempted breakout at the asylum. Batman was needed more than ever and that meant Bruce Wayne had less time to visit.

Alfred didn’t say anything, only laced his fingers and leaned forward. Joker was still laughing, great loud belly laughs that made him wheeze and gasp for air. Bruce went red; he couldn’t look Alfred in the eye.

“Do you want to start searching for her, sir?” asked Alfred.

“Where would I start?” Bruce asked, hopelessly. It had been four years since the mass breakout. The trail would’ve gone cold by now.

“I can have Miss Gordon start monitoring security footage,” the butler suggested. Bruce nodded, half-heartedly. He didn’t have much hope they would find anything.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, sir.” Alfred took the tea tray and moved to the door. “You’ve already got enough to do.”

Once Alfred was gone, Joker stood at the foot of Bruce’s bed.

“First Ra’s then Astrid.” He tisked. “So much for having an eidetic memory. Are you forgetting to tell them about the trackers, too? Or are we just gonna go after them ourselves later?”

“I’ll tell them once they’ve investigated the asylum,” Bruce said, trying to talk himself into it. “This should be taken one lead at a time.”

“Of course!” Joker whacked himself on the head. “Why didn’t  _ I  _ think of that? I mean, it’s not like there’s two of them out there! And it’s not like one could take the Asylum while the other follows the trackers!”

Bruce glared at Joker. Joker smiled back.

“Face it, Bats: you wanna go after them yourself. You wanna bring them in like old times! Show up at the police station with the bad guy tied up on the doorstep.”

Bruce slipped his legs out from under the covers.

“You wanna get a few free kicks in before you do it, though. They really fucked you up in Wonder City.”

Bruce slumped over to his bathroom sink. He fished around for the painkillers and popped three into his mouth.

“Besides,” Joker continued, “we need to blow off some steam. All those years you visited Astrid, fought for her to be released in court, and they didn’t bother to tell you. Not even a text message saying ‘Oh, by the way, your kind-of-sort-of daughter is missing.’ Fucking rude, really.”

Bruce grabbed the remote on the bedside table.

“Oh, if only you had a way to get past Barbara in the cave,” Joker said in mock despair. “If only it was so secret that not even Alfred knew about it. A way to quickly get yourself in a suit and plop your ass on the Batcycle so you could be on your way!”

Bruce tapped a specific combination of buttons. The TV across from his bed slid back to unveil an elevator. Tiny metal arms held individual armor plates, waiting for him.

“Huh.” Joker gave a knowing smile. “Well, that’s convenient.”

* * *

The Batcycle handled just as Bruce remembered. It was responsive to the slightest turn, pump of the breaks and twist of the accelerator. Wind whipped in his face and tugged at his cape. The illumination of lights from lamps and cars turned into blurry streaks of yellow, orange and red.

He zipped through the lanes of Gotham City traffic. Civilians on the sidewalk whipped around and gawked at him. Those in their cars honked or cursed him out from their open windows. Cars screeched to a halt as Bruce blew through red lights.

“Batcycle, Batmobile, Batplane,” Joker counted on his fingers. He sat where the sidecar would’ve been, floating on air. “What’re you gonna make next? Batrocket? Batsubmarine? Bat ice-cream truck?” Bruce tried not to smile, but his lips were pulled up anyway. Joker’s eyes widened. “Are you laughing? At one of  _ my _ jokes? Jesus, Bats, maybe I am taking over a bit.”

Bruce pulled his mouth into a frown and brought up the bike’s GPS. The map zoomed out to show two blinking red dots ten blocks away. Bruce frowned; that looked like they were at... Wayne Tower.

Joker cocked an eyebrow. “Well, so much for that top-of-the-line WayneTech security.”

Bruce opened the throttle completely and the bike accelerated to top speed. Bruce called Lucius through his comms.

“Mr. Wayne?” The smooth voice of Lucius Fox sounded unconcerned.

“Has there been an intrusion tonight?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Lucius replied. “Alfred and I just recently reviewed our security and we found no blindspots. I can recheck the security footage if you’d like.”

“Don’t bother, I’m on my way.” Bruce hung up without waiting for a reply.

When Wayne tower was finally in sight, Batman thumbed a red button beside the throttle. The activated ejector seat propelled him into the air while the bike kept driving, its programming taking it back to the Batcave. Batman shot out a line, grappling a gargoyle that hung on one of Wayne Tower’s lower levels. Once he reached it, he grappled the one above and so on, until he reached the platform outside Lucius’ office. The windows opened and Bruce stepped into the warmly-lit room. Lucius himself sat at his polished oak desk.

“I’ve been going over today’s security footage,” he said, looking up from his computer at Bruce. “So far there’s been nothing out of the ordinary.”

“I told you not to bother,” Bruce grumbled. He activated his Detective Vision and two red dots started blinking just beyond the office doors. Scarecrow and the Arkham attacker were in the building, in the reception area of the office.

“Lucius,” he ordered, “tell your receptionist to take a break.”

“Mr. Wayne, are we in danger?”

“I don’t want her to see me walking out of your office.”

Joker frowned and rubbed his chin. “There’s an affair joke here somewhere, I just can’t find it...”

Lucius frowned and called his receptionist through the desk intercom. After she left, Batman quietly, slowly, stepped out of the office and looked around. The area was clear; the two dots were blinking behind a door across from the reception desk. A janitorial closet, judging by what Batman saw through his Detective Vision. But among the mops, buckets and sanitary wipes, a blue skeleton slumped against the door. Batman focused on it to get its life readings.

_ DEAD _

Bruce shut off his Detective Vision and took a deep breath. He couldn’t tell who it was behind the door, so he was going to have to open the closet.

“Lucius, go back into your office and call GCPD,” he ordered.

“Mr. Wayne, what’s going on?”

Bruce glared at him. “You’ll find out eventually. Now go.”

Lucius frowned, straightened his tie and walked stiffly back into his office.

“Wow, sure showed him.” Joker rolled his eyes. “ _ Why _ couldn’t we let old Foxy see the corpse?”

Bruce didn’t answer; he opened the door and out fell the limp body of Jonathan Crane. A ninjaken sword was thrust straight through his heart. His mask had been torn off to reveal the ruin of ripped skin Killer Croc had left behind in his attack. The two trackers blinked red on his chest.

“You haven’t had much luck with leads lately, have you?” Joker scratched his head. “I mean, first Ivy didn’t know anything. Then you scrambled Tetch. And now tall, lank and creepy here is dead. Do you plan on making  _ any _ progress with this case tonight?”

“Shut up,” Bruce growled. He reactivated his Detective Mode. Scarecrow’s body was covered in chemicals. The computer scanned and analyzed each one and told Bruce that they were the exact components to the newest dose of Scarecrow’s toxin. Batman pressed a few buttons on his wrist guard and the computer began separating the chemicals, isolating the ones not used in previous batches. There were two and Batman brought up their information windows. He told the computer to scan for a connection and it brought up the result almost immediately.

_ PROPERTY OF STAGG INDUSTRIES _

“Isn’t that those guys that have a blimp just above the city?” Joker asked. “Oooh! I’ve always wanted to go on a blimp! Can we reenact Hindenburg? Pleeeeease?”

Bruce’s comlink beeped in his ear. He answered, but when Barbara started yelling at him, he wished he hadn’t.

“What do you think you’re doing!?” she shrieked. “Lucius just called us and said you’re at Wayne Tower! Have you actually gone insane!?”

Bruce took off his cowl, reveling for a bit in the sweet release; the mask had been pinching his bruised face. He reached inside, pulled out the earpiece and crushed it underneath his boot.

“Wow.” Joker sounded genuinely surprised. “I didn’t even  _ prompt _ you to do that.” He smiled wide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, there's a huuuuuuuuge retcon in this, but let's be honest: that just makes it even more comic booky. I'll probably be making changes to earlier chapters to better allude to that, but I'll actually finish the story first.


	9. On Top of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman invades the blimp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta for this one. We die like men!

_"The past is never where you think you left it."_

_-Katherine Anne Porter_

* * *

Lucius had just finished calling GCPD when Bruce stormed into his office, dark and broody as a storm cloud.

“Commissioner Gordon is sending a squad car now, sir,” he said. “Is there something I should know before they arrive?”

“You need to tighten security,” Bruce snarled. His hands twitched as he kept himself from slamming Lucius’ head into his desk. Where did Lucius get off calling Barbara, like he was a child who’d snuck into the cookie jar? He swept past Lucius and on to the office balcony. It was starting to rain; the drops tapped against the cowl and soaked through the underlayer of kevlar.

Joker leaned against the guardrail and giggled. “Leaving a black man to explain a dead body in his closet to the police,” he mused as Batman perched himself for a dive. “Yeah, that’ll go well.”

Batman leapt into a dive and hurtled straight down towards the orange-lit streets of Gotham City. The wind whipped against his face and all the blood rushed to his head. He mentally counted height to ground level as he dropped.

600 feet.

500 feet.

400 feet.

He snapped out his wings. They caught the wind with a force that carried him back up 50 feet. The wound in his stomach screamed in pain. A hot stickiness spread across Bruce’s skin under the suit. He maneuvered himself on the wind to a nearby rooftop, his abdomen in a new wave of pain with each slight movement.

Bruce landed on the roof and nearly crumpled under his shaking legs. He reached into his belt pouch for the painkillers he had taken from the bathroom and popped them in his mouth, swallowing them dry.

“That’s not gonna last you for long.”

Bruce whipped around to find Selina standing behind him. His reflexive thought was how beautiful she looked; raindrops fell from the tips of her hair and onto her face. Her suit was slightly unzipped, showing off the pale skin of her neck and collarbone. She was freckled there, as well.

“She’s freckled everywhere, Bats,” Joker cut into his thoughts. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?” He eyed Selina hungrily. “Must feel nice and smooth, all that soaked skin.”

Bruce flushed at the memories of her wet skin on his. “Did Barbara send you to find me?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She approached Bruce cautiously, like he might panic and fly away. “She said you took off while you were still injured.”

“I’ll power through it. One night with this injury won’t kill me.”

“What if it’s more than one night?”

Bruce’s cape flung water through the air when he whipped around to face Selina. Her bright green eyes gleamed, cutting through the darkness. Bruce was reminded of his dream, of being scrutinized on the witness stand.

“Then I’ll rest during the day,” he replied, turning to leave. Selina’s footsteps splattered on the roof. She stopped right in front of Bruce, arms crossed.

“You need continual rest for a wound like that, Bruce,” she scolded.

“That makes two women yelling at you to do something in the last twenty-four hours,” Joker snarked. “Way to stand up for yourself, Bats.”

“It won’t take more than tonight,” Bruce insisted. His shoulders were tense with frustration. “I’ve handled bigger in less than a night.”

“That doesn’t mean you should push yourself like this.” Selina scowled at him, like a parent explaining to a child why they couldn’t stay up until midnight. “You’re badly injured and running on painkillers. Your joints can’t possibly handle the strain you’re putting them under. When was the last time you slept?”

Bruce had once found Selina’s over-concern endearing. In the year she’d lived at Wayne Manor, she had positively babied him whenever he was sick. He’d found it funny; she was fine with him jumping on rooftops and fighting villains, but she refused to let him out the door if he had so much as a cold. He had relished in the attention then, but now it irked him.

“Some girl you got here, Bats.” Joker wrapped his arms around Selina’s shoulders. “How did you take a whole year of this? The sex must’ve been _really_ good for you to put up with that. I mean, that was the only way I could get through Harley’s annoying bits.”

Bruce frowned deeper; the idea of comparing Selina to Harley Quinn, a brainwashed ditz, made him wish he could punch Joker in the teeth. Selina’s expression became more resolute.

“At least let me come with you, wherever you’re going,” she said.

“No,” Bruce and Joker said at the same time. Selina gave a glare to rival Bruce’s.

“Too bad,” she snapped. “I’m not letting you leave knowing you have no backup. Robin and Nightwing are at the asylum ruins looking for clues, so I’m the only option you have.”

“I don’t need backup,” Bruce insisted, trying to move past her. Selina fell into pace beside him.

“You’re getting it anyway.”

Joker groaned. Bruce had an image of tripping Selina and leaving her behind. He resisted the urge to act on it, though couldn’t fight his smile at the thought.

* * *

The Stagg Industries airship was docked on the edge of Gotham’s City limits. The official statement from the company was that this was done for the citizens, to take up as little city space as possible. Batman had always had his suspicions, though. There were rumors of risky drugs being tested on humans. Tax forms didn’t match with the company’s supposed annual income. Bruce Wayne had done all he could to get at them legally, but Stagg Industries had a very skilled team of lawyers and managed to dodge any investigations. The blimp was long overdue for a visit from Batman.

“How are we getting up there?” Selina asked, staring up at the airship. “That’s gotta be two hundred feet in the air.”

Bruce had been wondering that himself their whole way here. The airship was held to the ground by four incredibly thick and durable lines rooted into the earth. It was possible they could climb up, but with the rain it was likely for them to slip and fall.

“Maybe she can get on your shoulders and get up that way?” Joker mused. “No, wait, your back would probably break under her ass.”

Bruce gritted his teeth. He had an image of them cracking from how hard he clenched his jaw. Joker’s laughter reverberated in the back of his mind.

“Bruce.” Selina tapped his shoulder and pointed. “What do you make of that?”

Bruce looked where she was pointing and saw a large drone hovering lazily over the Gotham streets. It was on level with their rooftop and was slowly hovering towards them.

Batman activated Detective Vision and trained his sight on the drone. The computer was quick to douse him with information.

_Remote controlled drone owned by Stagg Industries._

Batman fished through his belt pouches and pulled out a small stick with nothing on it but a button and thumbstick. He pointed it right at the drone and pressed the button. The device ran through millions of frequencies under a second before finding the one which controlled the drone. Soon, Bruce was guiding it towards them with the thumbstick.

“Lucius really outdid himself with this one,” said Selina.

“Do you really run into drones that often, Bats?” asked Joker. “I mean, how many times did you go up against a giant robot or an exploding penguin before you said, ‘Yeah, maybe I should have something to help me out with this’?”

The drone was large enough for both of them to sit on and it carried them right to the top of the blimp. Selina clutched Bruce’s arm tighter the higher they got; she didn’t like heights. Bruce had learned that when he tried to give her a ride in the Batwing. Alfred spent the next week cleaning vomit out of the copilot’s seat.

“ _I can show you the world,_ ” sang the Joker, floating on his back beside them. “I’ll bet you if they made a modern remake of Aladdin, the magic carpet totally _would_ be a drone.” He broke off into a giggle fit. Bruce rolled his eyes and tried to keep “A Whole New World” from being stuck in his head.

They reached the top of the airship and Selina all but leapt off the drone. She took a moment to steady herself on the inflated surface before she relaxed. Batman dropped easily onto the blimp and disconnected his controller from the drone. It hovered away, back to whatever path it was on before. Batman motioned silently and led Selina down an entrance hatch.

They slid down the ladder and found themselves at a three-hallway intersection. Batman stood still, listening. The ship groaned as it swayed on the winds. Vents howled as they pumped oxygen to the ship. Footsteps clanked along the floor. And they were getting closer.

Batman instinctively dove for a floor-level vent. He crouched to fit and his stomach wound screamed in fresh pain. Bruce bit his lip to keep from making noise. He looked out from behind the vent, but saw no sign of Selina.

The footsteps were close and now there were voices with them.

“Batman’s forced him to change his plans,” said one voice.

“Just our luck, right?” said another voice. “He’s been out of the picture for five years and _now_ he shows up again?”

“I heard the Knight killed him,” said a third voice. Three sets of boots stopped right in front of Batman’s vent. “Shot him right in the stomach.”

“A stomach wound’s not a killing blow,” the second voice pointed out. “And even if he was dead, he’s got those sidekicks. They could cause just as much trouble if the Knight gave them more time.”

“Hey, I’ve got a question,” said the first voice. “Why did he name himself after an old asylum? ‘Arkham Knight’ doesn’t sound intimidating when you really think about it.”

“You can’t understand unless you grew up here,” said the second voice.

“Yeah,” the third voice agreed. “That place has scared the shit out of Gotham since forever. The guy who built it killed his patients and had to be put in a straight jacket himself.”

“It hasn’t gotten better,” said the second voice. “I was doing time there while Blackgate was being repaired. The doctors are crazier than the patients. The place looks and smells like a sewer. And you can hear people screaming at night. If you want a name that puts fear in the people of Gotham, there’s nothing like Arkham.”

 _The Arkham Knight._ Finally, Batman had a name. Now, he just needed to know what his plans were.

Batman burst from the vent. The three men fired their weapons blindly. Batman took one and slammed his face into the floor.

Selina dropped from the ceiling where she’d been hanging. She landed on top of another henchman, wrapping her thighs around his neck. She flipped backwards and took him with her, slamming his face into the floor.

Batman ducked under the last man’s gunfire and slammed him against the wall. The henchman dropped his rifle and whipped out a pistol. It was gone with a crack of Selina’s whip.

“The Arkham Knight!” Batman growled. “What is he planning? When is it happening?” At this point, he expected the henchman to piss himself and start talking. Instead, he glared at him defiantly.

“Go to hell, Batman,” he growled. Joker tsked

“Shouldn’t have done that, pal,” he said. “Now, we’re just gonna have to break you.”

Joker copied Bruce’s position, pinning the henchman against the wall. He pulled in his arm and made a headbutt motion. Bruce copied him; his forehead collided with the henchman’s nose.

Joker quickly spun around and flung his arms out. Bruce copied again, throwing the henchman against the opposite wall. He crumpled to the floor, clutching his bleeding nose.

Joker led Bruce over to the henchman and they kicked him in the gut. When he took his hands away from his face, they kicked him in the nose again.

“What’s the plan!?” Bruce and Joker yelled at once.

“Fuck you!” The man spat a glob of blood at Bruce’s feet.

“Batman!” Selina cried. “Stop! He’s had enough!”

“He’s not nearly as scared of me as he _should_ be!” Bruce and Joker snarled. “But we’ll get him there.”

“Not a chance,” the henchman gargled through a mouthful of blood. “I don’t gotta be scared of you no more. After the Knight gets done with you, you’ll be as scary as a preschool finger painting.”

Bruce wasn’t sure who thought of it first, him or the Joker, but he took a Batarang from his belt and flipped it open. He bent down so he was eye-level with the henchman and ran the sharp tip of the Batarang along his cheek.

“This weapon,” he said, “was designed to be so sharp it could cut through a coil of rope three inches thick. Human skin is much easier to cut than that.”

Batman flicked his wrist and left a thin cut on the henchman’s cheek. The henchman flinched.

“Can you imagine what this could do to you?” He dug the point into the cheek and the henchman screamed as a small hole was punched through.

“He’s gonna activate them all tonight!” he cried. “All the guys who bought Scarecrow’s shit! They were hypnotized not to feel it, but the Knight’s gonna announce the trigger word tonight. It’s gonna be on every TV and radio in Gotham. They’ll go nuts and soften the city for us. Then, we go in and overrun them!”

Batman didn’t move the Batarang from where it still stuck in the henchman’s cheek. “Give me a location.”

“Down in the cockpit!”

Batman moved the Batarang and whacked the henchman on the temple. He fell limply to the floor, still bleeding from his nose and the small hole in his cheek.

“Bit excessive, Bruce,” Selina hissed. Bruce ignored her and took off down the hall. Joker kept pace beside him, matching him step for step like a gruesome shadow.

“That was brilliant, Bats!” Joker cheered. “He was bloody putty in those meat mits you call hands. You can still make thugs piss themselves even when you’re a few years away from wearing a diaper yourself.”

* * *

Bruce had expected Joker to disappear like he usually did as he and Selina worked their way through the innards of the airship. Instead, Joker tailed them down hallways, through air vents, and under floor grates. When Bruce snuck up behind a guard to knock him out, Joker was there, encouraging him to suffocate him. When he was crawling behind Selina in an air vent, Joker kept commenting on her body in the most lewd ways he could think of. It was constant and distracting.

“Bruce,” Selina hissed. Bruce shook his head, trying to push Joker to the side. He crept up beside her and looked through the louvers of a vent. They were looking down into a large laboratory near the bottom of the blimp. Doctors in lab coats were watched by guards armed to the teeth. Everyone was wearing a filter mask, even though as far as Batman could tell, there wasn’t anything toxic in the air.

Batman flipped on his Detective Vision (“That’s like the all-encompassing solution in your life isn’t it?” Joker snarked) and saw that the air was filled with Scarecrow's fear toxin. They had found a way to continue its production. Of course they did; why would anybody rely on just one person to create such an important product?

“So I guess all that work to find Crane was for nothing?” Joker said. “Oh well. What’s three days of wasted time, weak bones, a face-full of fear gas and a stomach wound, really?”

Bruce growled and Selina put a hand on his shoulder. He tried to calm down, to stay quiet, but frustration and rage and the desire to hit something filled his senses. He was itching to burst from the vent and tear through every guard in the room.

A pair of doors on the other side of the lab flew open. Two guards came in carrying a struggling man between them. Bruce recognized him immediately: Simon Stagg, CEO of Stagg Enterprises. Behind them, clad in military camouflage and the gaudy approximation of Batman’s cowl, was the Arkham Knight.

“I did everything you asked!” Stagg cried, dragging his feet. The doctors shot quick glances at Stagg before turning back to their work.

“I gave you all the materials you needed!” Stagg practically shrieked. The guards dragged him to a glass case just below Bruce and Selina’s vantage point. “I kept the police from finding the drugs! You couldn’t have pulled this off without me!”

“Your contributions have been noted and appreciated,” intoned the Arkham Knight. His distorted voice and unchanging mask gave the disturbing impression of complete detachment. “And you shall be rewarded for it, though not in this life.”

“You owe me!” Stagg screamed. The guards tossed him into the glass case and it closed with a sharp hiss. Stagg beat on the doors. “I! Am! Owed!”

“You will receive more than you deserve,” replied the Knight. “We all will. The destruction of Gotham will be more than just material. We will wipe a moral blight from the world. Gotham’s people will be sent to the gods, where they will finally be made pure.” The Knight walked over to a console panel. Bruce noticed that his step was determined, precise, a far cry from the spontaneous and agitated step he had in Wonder City. “Then, we will raise them up again, including you. It will be a city of such purity that it will be unrecognizable. You should be glad; you will be part of this cleanse.” The Knight pressed a button on the console. Stagg’s case filled with green gas.

“You’re crazy!” Stagg cried through coughs and wheezing. “You’re all insane!”

He collapsed into a fit of spastic coughing. He hacked, clawed at the glass, wretched and twitched. Finally, he collapsed to the ground, eyes and mouth open wide.

“Oops,” said Joker. “Another unnecessary death in this never-ending case.”

Bruce snapped.

He kicked the cover off the vent and landed right on top of one of the guards. With a growl he leapt at the second guard, slamming his face into the floor. He rushed at the Arkham Knight, aiming a kick to his knees meant to trip him. The Knight jumped, simultaneously drawing two pistols from his hips.

Bruce’s world went into slow motion. The Arkham Knight was aiming right at him and he knew there was no way he could miss.

_CRACK!_

Selina’s whip cut between them for half a second. The Knight’s guns were suddenly gone. Batman saw his opening and aimed a punch at the Knight’s head just as he landed. He saw where it would land, was sure that it would break right through the Knight’s mask. The Knight grabbed his fist with reflexes that would’ve rivaled Bruce in his prime. Bruce reeled as the Knight met his punch with an answering uppercut. He tasted blood and one of his teeth was knocked loose.

When he regained his balance, Bruce saw the Knight already on the other side of the lab, slipping through the same door he had come through with Stagg.

“Yeah, Bats, this was smart.” Joker was right next to him, copying him move for move. “Just drop down into a hostile rich-area with absolutely no plan. Superb strategy.”

Bruce clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. He spat out a glob of blood. A bullet ricocheted off the floor next to him and he immediately lunged at the guard who’d fired. The lab scientists all screamed and ran for the doors.

The next ten minutes were a blur of blood, broken bones and Bruce feeling like he was about to collapse from exhaustion. He punched, kicked, whirled and threw a dozen Batarangs. There didn’t seem to be an end to the Knight’s henchmen. They certainly weren’t short on bullets.

Bruce ducked behind an air tank just as a volley of machine gun fire ricocheted against the patch of floor where he’d been crouching. There was a loud, metallic _pop_ and a hiss. A stream of white gas poured from a hole in the tank. It was more fear toxin; Bruce could tell by his accelerated heartbeat and clammy hands.

“Well, this is unfortunate,” Joker said. Bruce held his breath and scrambled for the small gas mask at his belt. “Surrounded by gunfire and soon that gas is gonna fog up the whole room. What to do?” He rubbed his chin with one finger contemplatively. Bruce fumbled with the mask and it clattered to the floor. Gunfire rattled in his hears as the mask was ripped apart by bullets.

“You could let me drive, y’know,” Joker remarked. He leaned against the tank. “It’s not like the toxin can really hurt me. I mean, it helped create me. You on the other hand...”

Bruce’s lungs screamed for air. His trachea constricted. His arms and legs shook.

“C’mon, Bats!” Joker got nose-to-nose with him. “I just wanna try it out! I’ve been riding shotgun the whole time, being a good little hallucination. Don’t you think I deserve a little time in the driver’s seat? I’ll give it right back, I promise.”

The edge of Bruce’s vision was going black. All he could see was Joker’s red-stained smile. He would have to breathe, but that would mean being exposed to the thickening toxin. If he let himself pass out...

* * *

Joker had been patient. He’d been waiting for his moment ever since he’d woken up. He’d been able to gain some control sometimes, but to completely take Batman’s mind and body, he had to wait.

So, he waited. He waited for the right time to take his shot.

 _Now_ was that time.

Batman slumped over and Joker could feel his consciousness slipping away. He smiled wide. He easily slipped into the front of Batman’s mind, filling in the limbs corded with muscle. He cackled; the laugh was strange coming from the rough, gravelly tones of Batman.

“Good Lord!” he cried, leaping to his feet. Even through the numerous injuries and old bones it felt incredible. The amount of power he felt was beyond anything he had in his old body. And the knowledge he had; he thought he had known every way you could kill someone, but Batsy had been holding out on him. He knew the names of acids he’d never heard of, hallucinagens that would make people bite their fingers off, forms of long-forbidden torture from some backwater country he hadn’t known existed. It was a water board of bloody information; it was better than drugs.

He breathed deeply, revelling in his control. The fear toxin filled his nostrils, going straight to his brain, and he reveled in that too. He heard the click of an LMG behind him.

“Don’t move, Batman,” said the henchman. Joker rolled his eyes; did everybody lose their imagination in the five years he’d been dead?

“Do I get a treat if I obey, daddy?” Joker nearly busted a gut trying not to laugh. Hearing that come out of the mouth of Batman was the funniest thing he’d heard in a while.

Joker could practically feel the henchman raise an eyebrow. “What?”

Joker whipped around, ducking low and launching himself through the fog of gas. He tackled the henchman to the ground, forcing him to drop his gun. He hadn’t even gotten a shot off.

“Nice try,” he said. He punched the henchman just below the eye socket, ensuring that the cheek bone would puncture the eyeball. The henchman screamed and clutched his face. Blood seeped out from between his fingers. Joker hit him again, in the chest this time, and relished the feeling of broken ribs under his knuckles.

“God, Bats, you were holding back on me,” Joker muttered, knocking out the henchman with a punch to the temple. “You could’ve had me in a wheelchair for the rest of my life.”

A volley of gunfire struck the ground on his left and Joker reflexively ducked into a crouch. He turned on Detective Vision and saw four remaining henchmen, shaking in the blinding gas and firing blindly at anything that made a noise.

Joker smiled and clenched his fist. This was going to be fun.

* * *

Bruce was jerked back into consciousness. It was like being woken up by a gunshot: immediate and disorientating. He staggered and leaned against the wall. He was exhausted; his joints ached worse than ever and his muscles strained to hold him up.

“Was it good for you?” Joker asked, taking a drag on a cigarette. “Cause it was great for me! Your body is amazing, Bats. And yes, I mean that in every way possible.” He cackled as smoke ran out of his ears.

“Batman!” Selina put a hand on his shoulder. Her voice was muffled. “Are you okay?”

Bruce looked around. The room was riddled with bullet holes and the broken, unconscious bodies of henchmen. The fans were running, sucking the toxin out of the room. Selina wore a small gas mask over her mouth and nose.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, taking deep, slow breaths. His head was swimming and he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten to the other side of the room.

Selina walked over to one of the henchman. Both his legs were bent at odd angles in three different places, including the knees.

“What did you do to this guy?” she asked.

“I was unconscious,” he said, though a dreadful sense of doubt burdened his words. Selina frowned.

“So who did that?” She gestured to the unconscious henchmen and Bruce took a closer look. Their legs were broken in multiple places, including the knees. One had a trail of blood spilling from his eye sockets.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Bats,” Joker said, bent over one of the henchmen. “You never told me there were this many delightful ways to kill somebody.”

Bruce’s heart stopped. Joker giggled.

“Oh, the look on your face!” Joker wheezed. “Relax, I didn’t actually kill them, but they’re not gonna recover from that soon.”

Bruce was short of breath. His heart pounded painfully. Sweat soaked his skin and made the suit suddenly uncomfortable.

“Bruce!”

Selina crouched in front of him, her hands steadying his shoulders.

“Bruce, take your pain pills,” she urged, digging into a pocket of his utility belt. Bruce batted her hands away, taking out the orange bottle himself. His hands shook so badly he couldn’t get the cap off. Selina gently took it from him and popped open the bottle. Bruce took it and shoved three capsules in his mouth.

“Yeah, just keep popping those pills, Bats,” Joker taunted. “It’s not like they’ll run out some time this evening.”

Bruce thrust the bottle back into his pocket. Selina looked at him nervously.

“Do you need a minute?” she asked.

“Or sixty?” Joker added.

“No,” Bruce growled. “I can do this. Let’s go.”

He brushed past Selina, who eyed him worryingly. Joker giggled maddeningly.

* * *

Jacob’s breathing came hard and shallow as he fled from the carnage behind him. He could hear the other henchmen screaming, bones cracking and Batman laughing. He shivered involuntarily; those sounds would fill his nightmares for weeks. If he survived the night.

He followed the Arkham Knight out of the lab and onto the blimp’s main deck. He was followed by another guard, who kept looking behind them. His breathing was quick and dry. The Knight’s own heavy panting wheezed through his voice filter. He landed in a seat and tapped furiously at the console. Jacob couldn’t tell what he was doing, as dozens of windows on the display monitor were selected and closed with lightning speed.

“One of you, watch the vents,” the Knight commanded. “The other, get the door. Stall him until I’ve got this done.”

Jacob didn’t know what “this” was, but he did what he was told. He planted himself in front of the door and took direct aim. His pulse beat through his whole body. He double checked his safety was off. A bead of sweat fell in his eye behind the protective lens. He blinked painfully.

The door flew open and Jacob pulled the trigger, screaming. He swung his gun in wild arcs that sent bullets spraying into the lab. He held the trigger until it clicked. He opened one eye and found no one in the door. No Batman. No Catwoman. No anybody.

The other guard ran up beside him, taking aim while Jacob scrambled at his belt for another magazine. That was when the vent in the ceiling fell on his head.

Jacob staggered. Somebody kicked him between the shoulder blades and he fell on his face. Somebody landed on top of him, pinning him to the floor. Jacob struggled, flailing blindly at the shadow on top of him.

The shadow grabbed Jacob’s wrists. His goggles were so fogged up that all he could see was a dark, demonic outline. The shadow brought its head down on Jacob’s face. The sound of his shattering goggles followed him into unconsciousness.

* * *

Bruce got off the guard. Selina unwrapped her arms from around the neck of the other. They both turned to face the Arkham Knight, Bruce priming a Batarang, Selina readying her whip.

The Knight still had his back turned to them, watching his control console screen.

“Gotham’s Dark Knight,” he said, standing. “And his loyal cat.”

“Turn around and raise your hands!” Batman growled. Joker rolled his eyes.

“Can’t you at least _try_ to be more creative?” he groaned.

The Knight turned to face them, hands above his head. He was still wearing that screen mask parody of Batman’s cowl.

“What happens now, Batman?” he asked. “Do you unmask me before turning me in? Check my computer to see what I was up to? Or will you just knock me out?”

“That’s entirely up to your level of cooperation,” Batman replied.

“It’s not my cooperation that concerns you.”

Two guns clicked behind them.

Batman and Catwoman whipped around to find pistols pointed at them.

Batman looked at the face of the gunman and his brain reeled.

The same glass face shield.

The same red camouflage armor.

Another Arkham Knight stared back at him.

“You left the door open,” he said.

“Keep them put,” said the Knight at the computer. “I need to finish typing out the command code.”

“My pleasure. I won’t miss this time,” he warned, gripping tighter on the pistol pointed at Bruce.

Joker circled the scene, taking in the two Arkham Knights and two pistols aimed at Selina and Bruce.

He grinned. “Now, that’s _interesting_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking over it again, some of the opening paragraphs are weirdly smutty. Dunno why.
> 
> Anyway, sorry not sorry about the cliffhanger. See you in another 6 months when I find a lunch break to write the next chapter.


	10. The Arkham Knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez, how’s this for late? Sorry about that. Enjoy!

_"My father is... imperfect."_

_-Damian Wayne_

* * *

Two Arkham Knights. Something told Bruce he should’ve known somehow. A buzz in the back of his mind told him “You should’ve seen this coming.”

How? What did he miss? He thought back to his encounters with the Knight. The radio message at the bank. The fight in Wonder City. And now, with both of them in front of him, he could see it. The difference is posture, the varied intensities of movement and speech.

“It was you who shot me,” he said to the armed Knight. “But it was  _ you _ who contacted me at that bank,” he said to the Knight at the desk.

“My associate has little restraint,” the computer Knight said. “She’s over zealous.”

_ She? _

“Hey!” the armed Knight shouted. “What the hell!?”

“I didn’t use your name,” the computer Knight said. “They can’t find you based on pronouns.”

“I thought the point was to be as anonymous as possible!”

“And what harm would it do if he  _ did _ know your name? There’s nothing he can do about it now.” The Knight rose and the computer shut off. “I’ve sent out the command, Batman. You can’t stop this now. Every socialite in Gotham has been driven to fear-fueled madness.”

“Scarecrow’s toxin,” Batman said, activating the emergency signal hidden in his boot with his big toe, specifically planted for cases like this when hands would be indiscreet. “You’ve sent out a trigger word that makes them feel its effects.”

“Crane’s formula was the perfect way to break Gotham from the inside,” the knight explained. “Drugs have always flowed through the city’s veins. This is its overdose.”

“Why, though?” Bruce asked.

“Why does it matter to you?” the female Knight asked. “You’re going to be dead anyway!” She cocked the pistol aimed at Bruce.

“Hold your fire.” The other Knight laid his hand on her shoulder. “If he doesn’t know why, this was pointless. We did this partially for him, after all.”

There was a pause, with Bruce ticking off the seconds in his head. He didn’t know how much range the beacon had or how long it would take for Robin and Nightwing to be ready. He was sweating.

“Better hope this monologue takes a while, Bats,” Joker said, smirking.

The female Knight grunted. “Fine. You first.” The Knight reached for his helmet.

When the Knight took his mask off, Bruce had the impression of looking in a slightly distorted mirror. The young man had his cheekbones and jawline. His hair was the same jet black. The differences were in his skin and eyes. His complexion was cool brown. Middle Eastern, Bruce thought. One eye was the same deep, night time blue as his. The other was a piercing emerald green. Bruce recognized that color.

_ “After that night we spent in Metropolis...” _

“Do you recognize my mother in me?” the Knight asked.

“Yes.”

“You haven’t forgotten her? Strange, considering the company you keep, Father.” The Knight shot a glance at Selina. Selina looked between him and Bruce. She looked confused and slightly...  _ hurt. _

“Yeesh.” The Joker studied Selina. “It’s not like she didn’t  _ know _ about your other girlfriends, but to have a baby in the mix? Prospects for future one-night-stands aren’t great, Bats.”

“She named me Damien,” said his son. “Because you didn’t ask.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bruce. “She never told me about you.”

“I believe you,” said Damien. “But your regret is irrelevant. I won. And soon you’ll be dead. My mother will be avenged and my grandfather’s work will be complete.”

“If you’re trying to get your revenge, you’re too late. The Joker killed her and he’s dead.”

Joker gasped, offended. “I’m  _ right here, _ Bats!”

“I know how my mother died!” Damien snarled. “Unfortunately, her murderer is beyond me. Even the Lazarus pit can’t bring back a pile of ashes.” He walked past Bruce and looked out of the cockpit’s massive windows. “Rā’s al’Ghul established Arkham City, where mother was killed, and he is punished severely for that. When the League of Assassins retrieved his body from Arkham, he was resurrected. He plotted and schemed for years, perfecting his plan to annihilate Gotham once and for all. His plans were never finished or carried out, because the one thing he never factored into his plan was me.

“He ignored me entirely, which gave me the freedom I needed to slowly turn the League of Assassins to my command. He was no match for us when I assembled my coup. I keep him alive through Lazarus, peeling and chopping bits off him, killing him, and bringing him back so I can do it all over again.”

“Just tell him why you did it, for God’s sake!” the other Knight growled.

Damien turned to her. “I was getting there.” He walked up to Bruce. “I knew that my grandfather was right to destroy Gotham. It’s a nest hub of crime and oozing leeches who take without giving. What Rā’s al’Ghul couldn’t see was that you can’t stop with the criminals and the corrupt. Victims of crime will turn to crime in return. Violence will be met with vengeance. Those stolen from will steal to regain what meager wealth they had. And so the cycle continues. The only way to stop it is to destroy the cycle completely. Once the elite and the addicted have done their work, we will swoop in and finish the job. No one will dare to ever again walk on the scorched earth that  _ was _ Gotham City.”

There was a moment of silence. Damien looked at Bruce with defiance and hatred.

“And you?” Bruce asked the female Knight. “Why are you helping him?”

“It’s personal,” she replied. Damien took a pistol from her hand and kept it trained on Selina. The Knight pressed a button on her helmet. Her visor slid up. She had a scar across her lips. Another on her cheek. A lock of dirty blonde hair hung over one of her dark brown eyes. Bruce’s heart broke.

“Astrid,” he said.

“Bruce.”

“That’s two forgotten kids in one night!” Joker screeched with laughter. “Who wants to go for three?! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

“I’m sorry,” said Bruce. Astrid fumed.

“Oh, that’s all you’ve got?! Sorry for what, Bruce? Sorry for missing our meet-ups the last two years I was in Blackgate? Sorry for never finding me after Arkham City? For never even looking? Sorry for being the same vigilante I was told horror stories about in prison? Sorry that you didn’t use your enormous wealth and power to just  _ get me out?! _ ‘Sorry’?! I’m glad you’re sorry, Bruce! I’m glad you’ve got that guilt to keep you company! I’m glad that all I ever was to you was something to feel sorry about!” She pistol whipped him on the jaw. One of Bruce’s canines cracked. “Fuck you!”

Bruce spoke through a mouthful of blood. “You could’ve come to me. I would’ve taken you in.”

“I did! And your fucking butler turned me away! Called me a tramp. He didn’t even know about me. He didn’t know my  _ name,  _ Bruce! You talked about him all the time, so excuse me for thinking you might’ve done the same for me at home. Excuse me for thinking I was little more than a rehabilitation project!”

Bruce couldn’t look her in the eye.

“I found her in an alley, Father,” said Damien, “defending herself from a group of thugs. Her brutality and endurance impressed me, so I took her in. She was trained with the rest of my army. When I discovered her connection to you, I knew destiny had brought us together.”

“He told me you were Batman,” Astrid said. “He told me what you  _ failed to mention _ for years. I’d hated you before Bruce, but to learn that you were  _ the _ Batman, the one sent some of my closest friends to Blackgate with broken bones. Who locked them up, away from the families they put their freedom at risk for by stealing to keep them alive. I knew I had to kill you.”

“Uh, Bruce,” Joker remarked, sticking his finger in the muzzle of Astrid’s gun. “If you ever had plans of bringing her into the family, I think that ship has sailed.”

“And what about the rest of Gotham,” asked Bruce. “Will you help kill them too?”

“The people I care about are safe, away from the chaos.” Astrid cocked her pistol. “What has Gotham done for me, Bruce, except keep me in prison for a crime I wasn’t even alive to commit?”

Joker raised his eyebrows. “She’s gotcha there.”

“And the others who tried to help free you?” Bruce rambled; he knew she’d made up her mind. He just needed to stall for time. “The lawyers and judges who took your case?”

“People I never met,” she said cooly. “People who only saw your name on a big paycheck.” She slid the mask back down over her face and cocked her pistol.

“I pray the spirits will be kind,” said Damien, sliding on his own mask and cocking his own gun.

Selina closed her eyes with a grave, defiant glare.

“Uh, Bruce?” Bruce could feel Joker’s worry. “I’ve been looking around in our head and it seems there’s no plan here. Either the boy blunders get here or we die; am I reading this right? Yeah, you’ve got a gun pointed at your face, but c’mon! That’s happened a billion times! Hell,  _ I  _ did that and you pinned me to the floor without a shot fired. What’re ya- are you seriously gonna let be what kills you?”

Bruce closed his own eyes. Joker’s head appeared in the darkness.

“It’s the age thing, isn’t it? You’re aching something fierce with the joints and the stomach wound and you can’t pull it off. If that’s all, you could just let me drive again. I can pull it off, no problem! It doesn’t bother me. You saw what I did to the guys out there. I can save us!”

Bruce clenched his fist and tried to drive away the temptation to give in. It was like the harder he fought, the more Joker slowly crept in...

_ CLANG! CLANG! _

Bruce snapped open his eyes. Damien and Astrid jumped back, disarmed. Damien drew his own pistols and fired at the ceiling.

Bruce looked up; Nightwing and Robin landed in front of him, hurling a volley of shurikens. The two Knights ducked and dodged, but didn’t back away further. Batman sidestepped Nightwing and lunged at Damien, grabbing both wrists and pushing him against the wall. The pistols fired uselessly in the air.

Damien pushed down against Batman’s grip. Bruce kept his grip, but the guns inched closer to his face. His elbows ached and popped with effort, but Damien was younger. Stronger. The smell of gun oil filled his nose as the muzzles inched closer.

_ CRACK! _

Damien’s left gun went flying when Selina’s whip snatched it out of his hand. Batman took the right gun and ripped it away, kicking away and quickly dismantling the gun. Damien chased after him. Bruce raised his hands to block a running punch, but Damien’s momentum carried and Bruce was thrown back.

“Fall back!” Damien shouted at Astrid. She was engaged with Robin, barely keeping up with his flurry of staff strikes.

“But-“ she tried to argue.

“Now!” he yelled. Astrid made a clumsy kick at Robin. It didn’t hit, but he backed away and she bolted for the door. Damien scooped up a gun from the fallen guards and shot a wide arc of bullets across the room. Everybody ducked and didn’t raise their heads until the fire stopped. When they looked to the door, the Knights were gone.

Bruce struggled to get his footing. His head was spinning and his legs were weak as the adrenaline retreated from his system.

Two sets of hands grabbed him under the arms. Bruce finally steadied himself. He found Robin and Nightwing glaring at him. Selina was at the computer, but Bruce could tell she was purposefully not looking at him in particular.

“When was the last time you were in the doghouse, Bats?” Joker taunted, leaning on his shoulder. “I don’t think they’ve ever been this... disappointed. Isn’t that your job, as the literal adoptive parent of like half these kids? Well, Nightwing at least. The other one died.”

Nightwing handed Bruce an earpiece. Bruce put it in his ear.

“Testing,” he said, tapping his cowl.

“Oh good,” Barbara’s voice crackled. “They got there in time. Now, we can get to work. And by the way, we’ve discussed it with Alfred. As soon as this is over, we’re going to make sure it’s years before you put on another Batsuit.”


End file.
